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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29144895">Under My Skin</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverthinkingThis/pseuds/OverthinkingThis'>OverthinkingThis</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Soulmates, in Every World [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Chinese Actor RPF, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Backstory, Chatlogs, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Humor, Idol!Wang Yibo, M/M, Misunderstandings, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Switching, Tattoo Artist!Xiao Zhan, Tattoos, lsfy - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:28:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>42,434</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29144895</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverthinkingThis/pseuds/OverthinkingThis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Yibo clasps Xiao Zhan's hands in farewell, they feel sensual and nimble in his own.  The hands of an artist.  Yibo suddenly thinks about them leaving a trail of ink on his body, one that he could touch and look at, like a memento.</p><p>“Yibo?”  Jackson taps him on the shoulder.  “You coming?”  </p><p>Yibo blinks.  He doesn’t know how long he’s been holding Xiao Zhan’s hands and staring up into his eyes, but <i>ah, fuck it</i>.</p><p>“No,” he says.  “I’m getting a tattoo.”</p><p>-------------</p><p>OR: Xiao Zhan is a tattoo artist, and Yibo has never wanted a tattoo so badly.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Wang Yi Bo &amp; Xiao Zhan | Sean, Wang Yi Bo/Xiao Zhan | Sean</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Soulmates, in Every World [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2114349</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>415</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>481</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>ZSWW/LSFY Week 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireflavoredwhiskey/gifts">fireflavoredwhiskey</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Day 4 of <em>ZSWW/LSFY Week 2021</em>!  Prompt: non-famous; alternative careers</p><p>This was supposed to be a one-shot, and then things happened.</p><p>I'm so grateful to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireflavoredwhiskey/pseuds/fireflavoredwhiskey">Elle</a> for being my enthusiastic cheerleader and beta -- your advice and suggestions have made it a better work.  It's been so much fun talking through this with you, and I hope you like how it turned out!  ❤️</p><p>
  <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0pbnGRNBTtOaOtAh0GUtE3?si=TP73-3ILRWaTJKhF373Yig">The playlist</a>
</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Come on, man, don’t make me do this,” Wang Yibo whines.</p><p>Jackson Wang laughs and slaps Yibo on the back of his shoulder.  He’s one of Yibo’s co-captains on <em> Street Dance of China 3</em>, and okay sure, Yibo probably should have known better not to trash talk so early, but it’s too late to take it all back now.  </p><p>“A bet’s a bet,” Jackson smiles as he leads Yibo into an alley and pulls open a door marked only with a stylized red wolf motif.  “You swore you’d get more towels than I would, and you didn’t, so here we are.”</p><p>Yibo steps in.  It’s a surprisingly trendy space, given the grimy, nondescript exterior of the building.  Inside, it’s all polished concrete, reclaimed wood, and exposed steel beams, with the only pops of color coming from the red cushioned seating in the reception area and the cluster of matching chairs around a table pushed against the opposite wall.</p><p>Yibo raises a skeptical brow.  “This is a tattoo parlor?”</p><p>Jackson nods.  “Ru Ling is a wizard.  Has a great reputation for his beautiful design work.  And not just for tattoos.  Companies also hire him to create artwork for commercial use.  Branding, ad work, that kind of thing.”  Jackson whistles.  “Clearly, he’s doing pretty well, ah?  Anyway, I’ve been talking with him about doing something more extensive than the tats I have now--”</p><p>“I don’t want something extensive,” Yibo cuts in.  “My manager would kill me.”</p><p>“Your manager is standing in the way of you building a proper image as a rapper and a dancer,” Jackson says with a snort.  “I can’t believe you don’t have a single tat yet.”</p><p>“Maybe <em> I </em> don’t want one…” Yibo grumbles.</p><p>“Well, you can always just get something small that says, “I heart Jackson Wang,” or “Jaier is my hero,” he cackles as Yibo scowls and body checks him.  “But that might be a waste of Ru Ling’s talent.”</p><p>“I’ll be right there,” a smooth voice calls from the back, and Yibo grits his teeth.  <em> I really don’t want to be here. </em></p><p>Jackson turns to Yibo, sensing his mood.  “Look, I’ll introduce you to Ru Ling, and you can sit with him for a consultation.  If you still <em> really </em> don’t want to get a tattoo, I won’t make you.  I know it’s a pain to have tattoos when you’re an idol.”  He smirks.  “You’ll just have to make it up to me another way.”</p><p>Yibo is about to thank Jackson for being so reasonable when a man appears in the reception area to greet them.  He’s tall, taller than either Jackson or Yibo, no doubt because of his ridiculously long legs, which look even longer in the monochromatically dark outfit he’s wearing, a slim drapey sweater paired with tight black jeans.</p><p>His long hair is pulled back into a messy high ponytail, revealing an elegant neck and a glimpse of delicate collarbones.  A few stray tendrils fall around his face, accentuating his high cheekbones and the strikingly beautiful eyes now twinkling at him because <em> -- oh. </em>He’s smiling. He even has dimples.</p><p>“...and this - this is Wang Yibo,” Jackson is saying, kicking Yibo with a foot in a totally-not-obvious way and jolting him out of whatever trance he’s fallen into.</p><p>“Yibo.  Wang Yibo,” Yibo echoes stiffly, and a voice starts screaming in his head as his brain comes back online and registers that he missed getting this man’s name because he was too busy staring.  He closes his mouth, then chews on his bottom lip in a failing bid to keep his face from showing the creeping panic he’s feeling inside.</p><p>An uncomfortable silence hangs in the air, and Yibo worries that he’s lost another thread in the conversation.  He has no idea what to do or say next, and anxiety thrums in his chest as the moment builds and then passes. </p><p>“Ah,” the man finally says.  “As I said, I’m Xiao Zhan.”  He extends his hand to Yibo.  Yibo’s mind goes blank again as he takes in the way Xiao Zhan’s pretty lips part into a genuine smile.</p><p>Jackson clears his throat, and Yibo startles, mortified to discover that Xiao Zhan’s hand is hovering in front of him, ignored.</p><p>“Oh!  Yes, <em> uh</em>, hi,” Yibo stutters out, quickly taking Xiao Zhan’s hand and giving it an awkward shake.  “Nice to meet you… Xiao Zhan?”  Yibo wants to fling himself out a window now, but there aren’t any, dammit.</p><p>“So,” Jackson begins, giving Yibo a wary look before turning to Xiao Zhan again.  “I was wondering if Ling-ge is around.  I wanted to introduce him to Yibo here since he’s thinking about getting his first tattoo.”</p><p>“Ah, that’s exciting!  But I’m so sorry.”  Xiao Zhan bites his lip and grimaces.  “Ling-ge had a personal matter to attend to.  He’ll be away for a few weeks, I’m afraid.  Perhaps there’s something I can help you with?  I’m Ling-ge’s apprentice.  Or, I <em> was</em>,” he hastens to add.  </p><p>“Really?” Yibo asks, betraying more surprise than he intended.</p><p>“Yeah, I, <em> uh</em>, finished my apprenticeship just recently,” Xiao Zhan says. “but I’m always learning from him, you know?”  He gives Yibo a quick wink.</p><p>Yibo’s eyes widen.  <em> He’s a tattoo artist?</em>  Xiao Zhan doesn’t look the part, at least to Yibo.  He’s always imagined tattoo artists to be the scruffy, taciturn types with tattoos crowding every available patch of skin.  Xiao Zhan seems way too sunny and sweet.  And -- Yibo tries to do a discreet sweep of the man’s body -- he doesn’t appear to have <em> any </em> tattoos.</p><p>Jackson nods, then audibly sighs.  “Ah, I’m sorry to miss Ling-ge.  If you think of it, next time you speak with him, can you let him know that Jackson Wang sends his regards?”</p><p>Xiao Zhan dips his head with a small smile.  “I will let him know you asked after him.”</p><p>“Thanks for your time.  We’ll come back when he’s returned,” Jackson says, and shakes Xiao Zhan’s hand.</p><p>Yibo feels his stomach drop.  He didn’t want to come here, but now he doesn’t want to leave.  Not yet.  When Yibo clasps Xiao Zhan's hands in farewell, they feel sensual and nimble in his own.  The hands of an artist.  Yibo suddenly thinks about them leaving a trail of ink on his body, one that he could touch and look at, like a memento.</p><p>“Yibo?”  Jackson taps him on the shoulder.  “You coming?”  </p><p>Yibo blinks.  He doesn’t know how long he’s been holding Xiao Zhan’s hands and staring up into his eyes, but <em> ah, fuck it</em>.</p><p>“No,” he says.  “I’m getting a tattoo.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Yibo’s certainty that he’s getting a tattoo begins to waver the moment he sits down with Xiao Zhan to talk about what he wants.  <em> What do I want?  You, just you. </em>  But he can’t say that, so now he’s having to answer questions about his preferences for a tattoo he never wanted.</p><p>And because Yibo’s primary objective for even being here is to spend more time with Xiao Zhan, and (hopefully) to impress him, he’s finding it impossible to answer even the simplest questions.</p><p>What does he like?  What size tattoo?  Where would it go?  Color or no?  Yibo has no ideas for any of it, forcing Xiao Zhan into his Tattoo 101 pitch.</p><p>“Since ideally, a tattoo will be with you forever,” Xiao Zhan is saying as he flips through a portfolio of tattoo designs on an iPad, “the best choice would be something that has meaning or importance to you, something that will give you joy when you look at it, and that will also tell the people who see it, ‘this is who I am.’”</p><p>Whatever anxiety Yibo had about choosing the right tattoo has now gone through the roof, and he’s completely paralyzed by the options before him.  <em> Oh, that looks safe.  No wait, everyone has that tattoo.  He’ll think I’m boring.  Mmmm… will that one make me look cool or insufferably pretentious?  Ah, that one is adorable… NO NO NO I don’t want to be cute!   </em></p><p>As the minutes tick by, Yibo can feel his face get hot.  Surely Xiao Zhan thinks he’s an indecisive flake now, a typical flighty idol.  He considers inventing an appointment that he’s late for and then fleeing.  <em> That will make Xiao Zhan remember me, but probably not in the way I want. </em></p><p>“Mn -- before I forget,” Xiao Zhan says suddenly, taking out his phone, “your friend -- his name was <em> um… </em> Jackson, right?  Wang?  I want to make sure I get that right when I talk to Ling-laoshi.”</p><p>Yibo looks up with a start.  “Oh,” he responds carefully, “you - you don’t know Jackson?”</p><p>Xiao Zhan looks apologetic.  “Err… no?  I’m sorry, I don’t know all of Ling-laoshi’s clients or friends.”  He hands Yibo his phone.  “Do you mind putting his info into my contacts?”</p><p><em> He doesn’t know who we are</em>, Yibo realizes, feeling both comforted and disappointed.  He takes Xiao Zhan’s phone and mumbles, “Wang… Jaier…” as he locates the correct characters, then adds “Jackson” to the entry.</p><p>“Thanks,” Xiao Zhan says as he takes his phone back.  A pause.  “So Jackson is… your brother?  Or…?” he asks pointedly, the question hanging. </p><p>Yibo looks confused for a moment but when he realizes what Xiao Zhan is asking, he says quickly, “No!  No - no relation.  A friend.  Just - just a friend, nothing more!”  Yibo stammers.  <em> Oh god.  Smooth. </em></p><p>“Okay,” Xiao Zhan says with a warm smile that feels like sunlight on Yibo’s face.  “So let’s talk about what you want.  Since this is your first tattoo, why don’t we start with something modest?  Maybe a word or phrase that gives you strength, like a kind of talisman?”</p><p><em> Bam</em>.  </p><p>“<em>Wu gan</em>,” Yibo blurts out.  <em> Shit.</em>  The moment the title of his own hit single leaves his lips, he cringes inside.  He’s already been so awkward around Xiao Zhan, and he worries that if the man learns that he’s an idol, it’ll just make things even weirder.  It always does.  He’s been in the game so long he doesn’t really know what it’s like anymore, to have someone treat him as just a regular guy.</p><p>On the other hand, without the cloak of fame, maybe Yibo is just coming off as a freak that Xiao Zhan is going to tolerate only because he’s paying him for a tattoo.  The thought depresses him, that fame or no fame, Xiao Zhan is already out of reach.</p><p>“<em>Wu gan</em>,” Xiao Zhan repeats, with no flicker of recognition.  Yibo should feel relief, but he doesn’t.  “No feeling, huh?  Bad breakup?  Who hurt you?”</p><p>Yibo starts to protest, but then notices the quirk in Xiao Zhan’s smile; he is joking, and Yibo relaxes into a laugh.  “Nah,” he says, “it’s like you said -- it’s - it’s a kind of talisman for me, something I say to remind myself not to take it too hard when bad things happen.  When you fall down, just get up again.” </p><p>Xiao Zhan bobs his head in agreement, his eyes thoughtful.  “I like that.  <em>Wu gan.</em>”  He opens another app on the iPad.  “So I think this could look really cool with hand drawn characters, instead of typed ones, yeah?”  Yibo watches, transfixed, as Xiao Zhan roughs out the characters on the screen, then expertly nudges around the pixels until they are transformed into a design that is polished, but still looks raw and energetic.</p><p>He flips the screen around to Yibo.  “What do you think?”</p><p>“That’s… that’s amazing,” Yibo murmurs.  “I can’t believe how quickly you did that!”</p><p>“I should have you call my mum and tell her that,” Xiao Zhan laughs, taking back the iPad and tapping on the image.  “Reassure her that my art school skills aren’t going to waste.”</p><p>Yibo is still formulating a response to the invitation to talk to his mum when Xiao Zhan looks up into Yibo’s eyes and asks, “So -- where do you want it?”</p><p>
  <em> Where do I want it? </em>
</p><p>Unbidden, Yibo suddenly sees himself grappling with Xiao Zhan against the wall, hands tangled in his hair, kissing his way down his long neck while Xiao Zhan fumbles with the buttons on Yibo’s jeans, asking breathlessly <em> where </em> -- </p><p>“Yibo?”</p><p>Yibo blinks, coming back to himself.  “I - <em> uhhh</em>, I’m sorry, what?”</p><p>Xiao Zhan looks amused.  “The tattoo.  Where do you want the tattoo?”</p><p>Seeing Yibo’s hesitation, Xiao Zhan takes Yibo’s hand, and runs his palm up the inside of his arm, pushing his sleeve up.  Yibo’s pulse quickens at the touch of Xiao Zhan’s hands, the sensation of delicate fingers prodding his skin.</p><p>Xiao Zhan traces circles on the soft skin midway between Yibo’s wrist and his elbow.  The light caress makes Yibo shiver a little.  “How about here?  Here, you can easily look at it, touch it, and gain courage and comfort from it.”  When Xiao Zhan looks up at Yibo, Yibo feels like he’s falling into his dark, beguiling eyes and says <em> yes </em> because in that moment he knows he would say yes to anything Xiao Zhan asks.</p><p>“Okay,” Xiao Zhan says, so gently, those eyes still on Yibo.  Yibo, mesmerized, sways forward like steel to a magnet, but Xiao Zhan is already on his feet.  </p><p>“Come with me, and let’s get started.”</p><p>Yibo follows.</p><p> </p><p>⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Xiao Zhan is in the middle of swabbing Yibo’s arm with iodine when Yibo suddenly remembers how much he hates needles.  He’s spent too much time in hospitals being stuck with them -- first as a kid with a worrying heart condition, and then more recently as an idol getting IVs because he’s working himself too hard.</p><p>Next to all that, the tattoo doesn’t seem like it should be a big deal, but Yibo can still feel his heart begin to race as he takes in all the equipment on the tray next to him.  Even Xiao Zhan is vaguely intimidating -- cool and confident as he takes inventory of the arrayed tools with his gloved fingers, like he’s preparing to perform surgery.  </p><p>It’s not too late, Yibo thinks to himself.  He could just leave.  </p><p>He doesn’t, though.</p><p>Xiao Zhan takes a piece of paper printed with the reverse image of the tattoo and applies it to the inside of Yibo’s right arm.  When he peels the paper off, Yibo admires the crisp outline of the characters on his skin.  </p><p>“What do you think?” Xiao Zhan asks.</p><p>“It’s beautiful,” Yibo breathes.  He wants it.  Steeling himself, he offers his arm to Xiao Zhan.</p><p>“So,” Xiao Zhan says, a little sheepishly, “it’s easier for me to ink the tattoo image right-side-up, since they’re characters, so…”  He stretches Yibo’s arm out a little on the table before them, then sits next to him, his left arm looped around Yibo’s arm to hold it still.  “If this is uncomfortable for you, let me know, and we can find another way to position you, okay?”</p><p>“Okay,” Yibo agrees, and it is <em> more than okay</em>, because he’s pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with Xiao Zhan, close enough to breathe in his cologne, or maybe it's his shampoo, something masculine yet sweet, notes of sandalwood mixed with jasmine.</p><p>Xiao Zhan turns his face to Yibo, his eyebrows slightly raised in question.  “Are you ready?”</p><p>Yibo sucks in a breath because Xiao Zhan’s face is so close, his expression so inviting.  His eyes catch on a tiny mole under Xiao Zhan’s lower lip.  Yibo could close the distance and kiss him, run his tongue along the little beauty mark, just like that.  He could, but he knows he can’t, and won’t.  He swallows hard.  “<em>Ahh… </em> yeah.”  He drags his eyes back up to meet Xiao Zhan’s.  “Yeah.  I’m ready.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan holds his gaze just a beat longer, then says, “this is going to sting, but you’ll get used to it.”</p><p>It’s more than a sting.  Much more.  On the sensitive skin of his inner arm, it’s more like a <em> burning </em> sensation, and the shock of pain makes Yibo hiss.  </p><p>Xiao Zhan stops, placing a gloved hand on Yibo’s wrist.  “You okay?  It’ll get easier, I promise,” Xiao Zhan says, his voice warm and soothing, his eyes soft.  “I want your first experience to be a good one.”  Yibo can’t help but imagine another context for his words, and feels a twitch, a bloom of heat in his belly.</p><p>“It’s - it’s okay,” Yibo insists with a bite of his lip, and he can feel his heart pound as he catches Xiao Zhan’s eyes flickering downwards to catch the motion.  Surely he’s imagining this.  Maybe it’s the pain, making him see what he wants to see.</p><p>“Alright,” Xiao Zhan says quietly, and blinks away.  Yibo lets out the breath he’d been holding and watches as Xiao Zhan bends down again, tracing the point of the tattoo needle along the edges of the scrawled characters in slow, expert motions.</p><p>Yibo grits his teeth, digs the fingers of his left hand into his thigh, and eventually the intensity of the pain begins to wane to a dull roar.  He closes his eyes and wills his mind away from where the needle is stabbing at his skin, and thinks instead of the press of Xiao Zhan’s firm chest against his shoulder, the way their arms are linked together, the sensation of Xiao Zhan’s hands holding him down.</p><p>Xiao Zhan shifts his body to get a better angle, and Yibo feels the tickle of Xiao Zhan’s ponytail on his cheek, the slow slide of his arm against his torso. It isn’t long before Yibo realizes that despite the buzzing of the needle and the prickling pain on his arm, he finds this… nice. So nice that he might be having a little problem <em> down there. </em></p><p>He’s pretty sure that between his shirt tails and the jeans he’s wearing, Xiao Zhan can’t see his growing problem, but the more Yibo worries about it, the more conscious he is of Xiao Zhan’s proximity -- and the bigger his problem gets.  It’s uncomfortable.  It’s mortifying.</p><p>Xiao Zhan must notice Yibo squirming because the buzzing stops.  “Yibo?  Are you doing alright?”</p><p>“Mn.  Yeah,” Yibo says, his voice tight.  He can feel the heat on his cheeks.  “I - I’m… fine.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan sets the tattoo gun down and settles a warm hand on Yibo’s back, and the soft, caring gesture only worsens the situation.  “You look a little peaked.  Let me get you some water.  We can take a break, okay?”  He pulls the latex gloves off with a snap, and then gets up.</p><p>Yibo stands too.  He can’t go on in this state.  “Can I - <em> uhhh </em> - I mean, do you have a bathroom?”</p><p>“Oh yeah,” Xiao Zhan says, gesturing to a door behind him.  As he walks away, he calls back, “Just make sure you use your left hand.”</p><p>Yibo gapes, horrified.  “What?”</p><p>“I need your right arm to stay clean!” Xiao Zhan shouts.</p><p>This response does nothing to answer the question burning in Yibo’s mind, but he decides he can’t worry about it.  He shuts himself in the small restroom, undoes his fly and, with his left hand, an image of that tiny mole under Xiao Zhan’s lips in his mind, and the memory of the feel of the man's hands on his skin -- it doesn’t take long before Yibo releases with a sigh.</p><p>“Feel better?”  Xiao Zhan asks with a smile when Yibo settles into the chair again, his face still warm and pink.  Yibo thinks he catches a mischievous glint in Xiao Zhan’s eyes, but pushes aside the thought.  What’s done is done.  And he feels more relaxed now (even the scratch of the needle is more bearable).  He’s able to enjoy Xiao Zhan’s presence, to admire the focused look on his face as he leans over Yibo’s arm.</p><p>Overall, the tattoo takes a little over an hour to complete, and when it’s finished, Yibo’s skin is red and inflamed, but the black scrawl of the <em> wu gan </em>in the middle of the angry flush on his arm looks and feels powerful to Yibo.  It’s perfect.</p><p>“...so you’ll want to take some ibuprofen to help with the swelling and any pain,” Xiao Zhan instructs.  “I’ll give you a brochure on how to care for your skin for the next few days while it heals.”  He gently massages petroleum jelly over the tattoo and holds up a bandage.</p><p>“You can take this off in 24 hours.  If there’s a problem, call me or come back, okay?”</p><p>Yibo’s ears perk up at the idea of more contact with Xiao Zhan and he seizes the opening.  “Is WeChat okay?”</p><p>Xiao Zhan pauses as he’s applying the bandage, an eyebrow quirking up.  “Yeah... I guess that’s okay,” he says, trailing off.  He gives Yibo a small, cryptic smile, and reaches for his phone.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>That night, Yibo can’t sleep.  His arm is throbbing, sure, but it’s more that the pain makes him think about his new tattoo and, inevitably, about the beautiful tattoo artist who created and inked it.  It’s unfamiliar territory for Yibo, not being able to sleep when he wants to.  And the idea that he’s being kept awake by thoughts of a person he literally just met makes Yibo laugh out loud, the absurd croaking noise of it drowning out the sound of the TV playing in the other room.</p><p>Yibo closes his eyes and absently runs his fingers over the bandage on his arm, feeling the dull burn on the skin beneath.  Even after the pain recedes, he realizes, the memory of Xiao Zhan will remain with him, etched into his skin.  He feels a little maudlin, thinking that maybe that’s all he will ever have of the man.</p><p>But Yibo isn’t good at letting go of things he really wants.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I love to hear from readers, so if you like the story, please comment, send encouragement, tell me what you liked, etc...  Screaming about the boys is always welcome!</p><p>References:</p><p>I've been thinking about tattoos for awhile: <a href="https://twitter.com/OldObsess/status/1313204949698912262">https://twitter.com/OldObsess/status/1313204949698912262</a></p><p>  <a href="https://twitter.com/GusuLan8125/status/1345618941381640193?s=20">https://twitter.com/GusuLan8125/status/1345618941381640193?s=20</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“So are you one and done, or do you think you’ll get another tat?”</p><p>“Oh I don’t know,” Yibo tries to say casually, as if the idea of going back to see Xiao Zhan hasn’t already occupied his thoughts every night of the last week.  “Maybe.”</p><p>“It’s kind of addicting, isn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>  <i>You have no idea.</i></p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I spent a whole night coding the text chatlogs in this chapter, so please admire my efforts.  If you can't see them (for example, if you're using an e-reader or have clicked "Hide Creator's Style"), just imagine they were hilarious.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Dude, I love it.  It’s got amazing energy,” Jackson enthuses, turning Yibo’s arm this way and that to study his new tattoo.  “And the guy we met designed and inked it for you?”</p><p>Yibo fights to control his fond smile at the mention of Xiao Zhan.  “Yeah, he’s good, right?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Jackson has to agree.  He runs a finger along the strokes of the characters.  “It’s… beautiful work, really.  Maybe I need to have him design one for me.  What was his name again?”</p><p>The thought of Xiao Zhan pressing his fingers into the bare skin of Jackson’s muscular torso brings the sour taste of vinegar to Yibo’s lips, and for a moment, he contemplates feigning ignorance.  It would be pointlessly revealing, though, since Jackson could easily find Xiao Zhan on his own.  </p><p>It’s just… Yibo is confident in his own attractiveness, but he also knows he looks skinny next to a guy built like Jackson.  And he doesn't like to share.  He tortures himself a little longer with the thought of how many meaty and firm biceps and pecs Xiao Zhan has run his pretty hands over.</p><p><em> Get it together, Yibo.  You don’t even know if he likes men that way. </em>   He <em> does </em> know that Xiao Zhan deserves credit for his talent, so Yibo lets his name roll off his tongue.  <em> Xiao Zhan</em>.  He likes the way it feels to say it.</p><p>“Cool,” Jackson chirps, but the knowing look he gives Yibo says something more.  Yibo coughs, bringing his hand up to hide the grin blooming on his lips.  </p><p>“So are you one and done, or do you think you’ll get another tat?”</p><p>“Oh I don’t know,” Yibo tries to say casually, as if the idea of going back to see Xiao Zhan hasn’t already occupied his thoughts every night of the last week.  “Maybe.”</p><p>“It’s kind of addicting, isn’t it?”</p><p>
  <em> You have no idea. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Yibo’s manager is not nearly as impressed with his decision to get inked.  In fact, when she discovers it during one of his wardrobe fittings a week later, there is a fair amount of screaming.  He hears words like "irresponsible" and "reckless" and "I do not earn enough for this."  Things are thrown at him.</p><p>“Jackson said--” he tries to explain, but she shrieks back that <em> Jackson </em> isn’t acting in period dramas, <em> Jackson </em> isn’t a host on <em> Tian Tian Xiang Shang</em>, so what <em> Jackson </em> does with his own skin means <em> fuck-all </em> to her.</p><p>The argument that Yibo is <em> also </em> a dancer and rapper and racer and skateboarder and an all-around adrenaline junkie who really <em> should </em> have tattoos likewise fails to stop the yelling.</p><p>He’s never seen his manager so livid.</p><p>But Yibo has more important things on his mind.</p>
<p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
    <span class="header">Xiao Zhan</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>hey</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>this is wang yibo</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>you did my tattoo...</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="text"><span class="hide"><b>Xiao Zhan: </b></span>Ah -- wu gan! I remember</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="text"><span class="hide"><b>Xiao Zhan: </b></span>Is everything okay?</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>yes</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>and no</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>i need to see you again</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>for another tattoo</span><br/>
<br/>
</p>
</div><p>⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Yibo has <em> ideas </em> for his next tattoo, and so in his free moments between scenes, photoshoots, or during breaks from dance practice, Yibo messages Xiao Zhan to tell him all about them.  Once or twice he’s wondered whether his incessant texting might make Xiao Zhan regret giving him his WeChat, but it's honestly hard for Yibo to contain his excitement once he's decided to pursue something.</p><p>And anyway, Yibo tells himself, he’s just making the man’s job easier.  As talented as Xiao Zhan is, Yibo senses he would appreciate having more time to design the tattoo, to be able to refine it without Yibo hanging over his shoulder in real time (which Yibo would prefer to do, but he’s trying to be considerate here).  </p><p>It’s clear to Yibo from their chats that Xiao Zhan isn’t watching <em> Street Dance</em>, and still doesn't know that Yibo is an idol, let alone one of the captains on the show, so Yibo skirts around his questions about the significance of the black panther design he’s asked for.  Xiao Zhan can’t know that the big cat is his <em> Street Dance </em> avatar, but if hiding that fact means that Xiao Zhan has to work harder to nail down the style of the panther Yibo wants, Yibo isn’t sorry at all.</p><p>He basks in Xiao Zhan’s attention.  </p><p>Yibo knows it's just professional interest, but still, he delights in the way he's able to goad Xiao Zhan’s polite prodding for ideas into easy banter.  He's even more pleased when their texting quickly devolves into a silly exchange of black panther images and memes.  </p>
<p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
    <span class="header">Xiao Zhan</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="text"><span class="hide"><b>Xiao Zhan: </b></span>Okay I think I have some ideas</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>make sure u capture how cool i am</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="text"><span class="hide"><b>Xiao Zhan: </b></span>...</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>fierce</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="text"><span class="hide"><b>Xiao Zhan: </b></span>Got it</span><br/>
<a href="https://i.imgur.com/z4MwWMJ.png"><span class="imagetext1"></span></a><br/>
<span class="hide"><b>Xiao Zhan: </b><em> [cute black kitten going rawr]</em> </span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>dude</span><br/>
<br/>
<a href="https://i.imgur.com/gtEE2kh.png"><span class="imagereply1"></span></a>
      <span class="hide">
        <b>Yibo: </b>
        <em>[fierce black panther roaring]</em>
      </span><br/>
<br/>
<a href="https://i.imgur.com/9qOreEM.png"><span class="imagetext2"></span></a><span class="hide"> <b>Xiao Zhan: </b><em>[cartoon black kitten]</em> </span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>u think ur funny</span><br/>
<br/>
<a href="https://i.imgur.com/j4lnUpg.jpg"><span class="imagereply2"></span></a>
      <span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b><em>[black panther superhero meme]</em> </span><br/>
<br/>
<a href="https://i.imgur.com/j4lnUpg.jpg"><span class="imagetext4"></span></a><span class="hide"><span class="imagetext4"></span> <b>Xiao Zhan: </b><em>[adorable black kitten]</em> </span><br/>
<br/>
<a href="https://i.imgur.com/aGRgCm5.png"><span class="imagereply3"></span></a><span class="hide"> <b>Yibo: </b><em>[are you done meme]</em> </span><br/>
<br/>
<a href="https://i.imgur.com/AMAKxuc.png"><span class="imagetext5"></span></a><span class="hide"> <b>Xiao Zhan: </b><em>[tiny black puppy]</em> </span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>thats a puppy wtf</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>ur fired</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="text"><span class="hide"><b>Xiao Zhan: </b></span>Settle down gouzaizai</span><br/>
<br/>
</p>
</div><p>By the time Yibo saunters into <em> Red Wolf </em> for his appointment with Xiao Zhan, he’s well and truly smitten.</p><p>“Ah, it’s Wang-laoshi,” Xiao Zhan says with a broad smile when he sees Yibo.</p><p>“Laoshi?” Yibo laughs, his eyebrows rising in amusement.  At 22, he’s almost always the youngest among his castmates or work colleagues.  So it's been a little awkward for him on <em> Street Dance</em>, being addressed as some kind of senior, when so many of the dancers on the show are older.  </p><p>Now that they've gotten to know each other a little better, it’s definitely weird to hear the honorific coming from Xiao Zhan, even though Yibo’s not entirely sure how old he is.  He’s probably older, but could easily pass for 22, Yibo thinks, especially when his face lights up in a smile the way it’s doing now.</p><p>“Yeah,” Xiao Zhan says with a little giggle, and Yibo feels the lilting sound ping in his chest.  “You’ve earned the right to be called my <em> laoshi </em> -- I’ve learned more about black panthers from you in the past couple weeks than I have the rest of my life.  I can only hope that my design meets your expectations.”</p><p>“I’m sure Xiao-laoshi will not disappoint,” Yibo teases.</p><p>Xiao Zhan crinkles his nose adorably.  “So formal…”</p><p>“Zhan-ge, then,” Yibo laughs, happy that their texting banter is playing out in person as well.  “So, <em> Zhan-ge</em>,” he says, drawing out the sounds of the new nickname, “show me what you’ve got.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan exhales, then turns his iPad around to Yibo, his head subconsciously ducking lower as he waits for Yibo’s assessment.</p><p>It’s stunning.  The black panther is rendered in abstract lines, stripped down to its sinewy and powerful essence.  Xiao Zhan has managed to give it a sense of motion, the feeling of being untamed, even as it’s frozen forever in a low and aggressive stance, just on the verge of pouncing on some unseen prey.</p><p>Yibo still hasn’t said anything, so Xiao Zhan nervously clears his throat.  “And here’s the little detail you asked for?”  He taps his finger on the screen and zooms in.  Nestled within the panther’s protective crouch is a small red heart.  “It was a little tricky finding a way to add that dot you wanted, but it’s here,” he says, pointing at a tiny dot to the right of the heart, trailing off one of the decorative swirls curling around the panther.</p><p>“It’s - it’s--” Yibo stammers, at a loss for words.  “It’s... amazing,” he finishes, but the word seems to Yibo to be completely inadequate to describe what he thinks about the design.</p><p>Xiao Zhan’s tentative expression melts away into a brilliant smile, and if Yibo was having trouble finding the words to express how beautiful the tattoo design is, he’s speechless now -- which he says, with as much awe and sincerity as he can muster.  </p><p>“I - I’m speechless.”</p><p>“<em>Oh.</em>  Oh, I’m so relieved,” Xiao Zhan sighs.  “After you’d sent me <em>so many messages</em>, I really worried that I wouldn’t be able to capture what you were looking for!”</p><p>“No,” Yibo rushes to say, “Zhan-ge, I didn’t -- I mean, that’s not why --” but he knows he can’t share the real reason for all his messages, so he just says, “It’s exactly what I wanted.  It’s - it’s actually better than I imagined,” Yibo adds.  “Really.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan smirks.  “So -- where do you want it?”</p><p>Yibo coughs over the little hiccup in his breath as he picks up on Xiao Zhan's teasing tone, and it hits him that <em>oh shit he knows</em> -- he knows exactly what ran through Yibo's mind the last time he asked him this question.  “You - you mean the tattoo?”</p><p>“Of course!” Xiao Zhan says with a raised brow.  “What else could I be talking about?”  </p><p><em>Fuck.</em>  Yibo can't miss the twinkle in Xiao Zhan’s eyes, and he looks down, suddenly flustered.  After so many years as an idol either avoiding dating or aggressively fake-flirting with people who were fake-flirting right back, he’s admittedly a little -- no, <em> a lot </em> -- rusty at <em> actual </em> flirting.  Now he’s worried about messing this up, worried that maybe he’s reading everything all wrong.</p><p>So he’s not sure how to broach the subject of where he wants this tattoo to go.  He'd been cagey about it when Xiao Zhan brought it up in their texts.</p><p>Yibo laughs nervously.  “My <em> uhhh… </em> boss didn’t really care for my getting a tattoo where people could see it --”</p><p>“Oh damn -- I’m so sorry!” Xiao Zhan exclaims, and he seems genuinely apologetic, as if he had held Yibo down and forced the tattoo on him.  “I shouldn’t have --”</p><p>“No, no!” Yibo jumps in. “I love the tattoo.  I don’t regret it!  But this one… it can’t be visible.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan waves his hands.  “Sure, sure, not a problem!  So… maybe your shoulder?  It could look really cool there, or maybe here --” and he gestures towards Yibo’s side, just under his ribcage.</p><p>“No, actually, I --” Yibo starts, getting ready to turn the smolder on for Xiao Zhan, a cocky half-smirk that he’s perfected for his photo shoots and that he unleashes during his dance performances because he knows it’s sexy.  But then Xiao Zhan interjects a knowing <em> Oh ho! </em> and Yibo deflates a little.</p><p>“I wonder what kind of job Wang-laoshi must have that his shoulder or waist isn’t hidden enough?  People at work see all of this?” Xiao Zhan sweeps a hand up and down Yibo’s body and gives him a wink.</p><p>Yibo manages not to squeal out loud at the wink, but he's still panicking at the mention of his “job,” because he doesn’t want to have to explain any of that -- not yet, anyway.  He likes that Xiao Zhan gives him a hard time and treats him like a regular guy, and wants to hold on to this feeling for a little longer.</p><p>Yibo swallows.  “Yeah, <em> uhh,</em> it’ll have to be below the - the belt.”  He cringes inside and waits, worried that Xiao Zhan will take this condition as some kind of creepy come on.  Yibo is well aware that that conclusion wouldn’t be too far from the truth.</p><p>But Xiao Zhan smiles reassuringly, his voice warm.  “Oh, I get it, don’t worry.  You’d be surprised what people ask to have tattooed,” he says, huffing out a laugh that suggests that he <em>has stories.</em>  He tilts his head.  “Come on back with me, and you can show me what you have in mind.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan leads him to a room with a door, more private than the space they’d been in last time, and Yibo frowns at the thought that Xiao Zhan has done this before, that Yibo’s not the first to ask him to mark an intimate part of his body.</p><p>“So…” Yibo says, deciding he should just come out with it, “I was thinking the panther would go here,” and he points vaguely at the space between the small of his back and his right hip, “but, <em> uhhh </em>… low enough so it can’t be seen above the waistband.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan nods, and Yibo can feel his face flush when he sees that Xiao Zhan’s eyes are fixed on his backside.  He’s even holding his hands up, like he’s trying to fit his ass into some imaginary picture frame.  Yibo tells himself that this is wholly professional, that it’s just Xiao Zhan trying to visualize the placement of the tattoo, but he can already feel his body coming to life under the attention.</p><p>Yibo starts running through his travel itinerary in his head, mentally rehearsing a card trick, thinking about the toothpaste commercial he has coming up -- anything to <em> not </em> think about Xiao Zhan’s eyes on his ass.  But then Xiao Zhan’s right behind him, his voice low and husky in his ear.  The sound and proximity of the man send tingles over Yibo's scalp.</p><p>“Can I?” Xiao Zhan asks, and Yibo's heart starts hammering in his chest as he realizes that he’s asking for permission to touch him.  Yibo nods, holding his breath.</p><p>“I just need to take stock of my canvas here,” Xiao Zhan laughs softly, lifting Yibo’s shirt tail and pressing his fingers along the top of Yibo’s right cheek.  He hums for a bit, then steps away.  </p><p>Yibo exhales, closing his eyes and thinking hard about his toothpaste ad again.</p><p>He startles when Xiao Zhan materializes next to him and hands him a sheet.  “Given where you want the tattoo,” he explains, “it’ll be easier for me if you, <em> uh</em>, take your jeans off.  Keep your underwear on, then come lie here on the table and cover yourself with this sheet.  Just yell for me when you’re ready, okay?”  He gives Yibo a small smile, and leaves the room.</p><p>Yibo does what he’s told, and tries to relax his breathing as he waits for Xiao Zhan to return.  He buries his face in the crook of one arm and wills his mind to do loops around the racetrack at Zhuhai, concentrating on where in the turn he should start his lean, imagining the roar of his motorcycle as he accelerates out, and <em> oh -- </em> Xiao Zhan is back and he’s moving the sheet aside to uncover Yibo’s right hip.  His hands are gently pulling the waistband of his underwear down and down, and he’s dragging his fingers in circles across Yibo’s bare skin--</p><p>“--Yibo?”</p><p><em>“Mmnn</em>… yeah...”</p><p>Xiao Zhan laughs, and Yibo’s eyes snap open.  <em> Shit</em>.  “Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t--”</p><p>Another laugh, a bit softer.  “That’s okay.  I was asking you where, exactly, you wanted me to put the tattoo.  Here?”  Yibo can’t see where “here” is, but he feels Xiao Zhan trace a trail with his fingers across the top of his ass.  “Or here?”  He runs his fingers a little lower and to the side.  “Or… here?”  Yibo tries not to shiver as he feels Xiao Zhan’s touch move still lower, and then he thinks about how Xiao Zhan’s hand would look gripped around his hip there, his thumb following the line of the panther as it slinks up and around the swell of his cheek--</p><p>“<em>Uhhh </em>… there, I think,” Yibo says, as calmly as he can.  </p><p>“Okay,” Xiao Zhan says, and Yibo bites his lip because of the way that <em> okay </em> came out of Xiao Zhan’s mouth, just a little rough, a little breathless.  <em>I am hearing what I want to hear</em>, Yibo insists to himself, but he can feel his whole body hanging in painful suspense for what Xiao Zhan tells him to do next.</p><p>“I’m -- I’m going to go get a couple of things,” he hears Xiao Zhan say, and takes his hands off of him.  Yibo lets out a breath, then berates himself because he’s sure that Xiao Zhan can hear the disappointment in it.  <em>This is his job.  He said he’s tattooed people like this before.  Don’t make it gross for him. </em></p><p>So when Xiao Zhan gets up to leave the room, Yibo quickly gathers the sheet around himself.  “I should, <em> ahhh</em>, go to -- before we start,” he mumbles, not wanting to meet Xiao Zhan’s eyes as he retreats to the bathroom.</p><p>Once he’s back on the table, Yibo’s body is more relaxed, but his mind is racing with anxiety over whether Xiao Zhan suspects what he'd been up to in the bathroom -- and with guilt over the wholly unprofessional thoughts of Xiao Zhan still lighting up his imagination.  Yibo didn’t miss the way Xiao Zhan’s eyes danced in amusement when Yibo trudged back into the room, wrapped up in the sheet, a heated flush on his cheeks.</p><p><em> He must know</em>, Yibo thinks.  And then as if on cue, as he’s swabbing Yibo’s ass with iodine, Xiao Zhan starts talking about how Yibo shouldn’t be embarrassed about being inked below the waistband because it’s not as rare as he might think.  <em>Sure, that's embarrassment I'm feeling.  Yup.</em></p><p>Sometimes, Xiao Zhan explains, they’re people like Yibo who can’t have visible tattoos for one reason or another, and Yibo feels his chest constrict just a little at the thought of Xiao Zhan putting his hands on other people’s bare asses or--</p><p>“--and then there was that time a guy wanted to have his <em> penis </em> tattooed!”</p><p>“Wh-what?” Yibo squawks, more loudly than he meant to.  He can’t help but think about the burning sting he’d felt on his arm last time and how excruciating it would be to have a needle stabbing his dick repeatedly.  “Yeah, that’s a definite no for me,” he laughs, a little hysterically.</p><p>“Trust me, it was no fun from my end either!” Xiao Zhan giggles, and Yibo turns his head towards the sound.  He can’t see much of what Xiao Zhan is doing, but now the scene his mind conjures for him flips and he can’t stop thinking about Xiao Zhan holding another man’s dick in his hands for an hour or two.  Not just holding it, but leaning in close, pressing his fingers into the skin -- just as he's doing with Yibo’s ass.</p><p>He's not proud of how long he contemplates the scenario and tries to parse what it makes him feel.</p><p>“It’s not like how you’d think,” Xiao Zhan says, as if reading Yibo’s thoughts.  “I mean, yeah, you have to be hard when the tattoo stencil goes on…”</p><p>“Oh my god,” Yibo cries, mortified at this new image in his head, of Xiao Zhan holding a faceless man's engorged and erect dick in his hands and massaging the ink of the stencil against the skin.  Yibo recoils.  “No, that’s… just no…”</p><p>“<em>Aiyaa </em> -- hold still, don’t move!” Xiao Zhan shouts while laughing.  “But <em>ahhh</em>, you can imagine he didn’t stay hard once I started inking the tattoo and <em> umm </em> put pen to paper, so to speak...  Then I had to do all kinds of things to -- <em> uhhh </em> -- stretch the skin so I could ink it, and it’s really not sexy or remotely dignified in any way -- oh no, stop laughing, I’m sorry!”</p><p>Yibo’s wheezing now, imagining poor Xiao Zhan having to pull this man’s limp dick out in different directions, like he's kneading dough, just so he can stab it repeatedly with a needle, and the secondhand humiliation of it all is too much.  Xiao Zhan is helplessly giggling too, so he sets the tattoo gun down for a moment and puts a steadying hand on Yibo’s back until they both can stop shaking with laughter.  </p><p>Xiao Zhan sighs as Yibo tries to catch his breath.  “I think people imagine it’d be hot, but yeah -- I <em> really </em> don’t think it was the experience he had expected!”  </p><p>“Do you - do you think he <em> expected </em> to find it… arousing or something?” Yibo asks.</p><p>“<em>Mmmm</em>, yeah, I think he did.  I -- he’d been here before, but… it was just a feeling I had, you know?”  Xiao Zhan shakes his head at the memory.  “I was still apprenticing, and it was my first time tattooing someone’s... dick, so I asked Ling-ge to sit in with me… just to make things more comfortable, ah?”</p><p>“I hope he's enjoying that tattoo,” Xiao Zhan snorts, then laughs again, a little nervously. </p><p>Yibo feels a surge of protectiveness, a flash of unreasonable anger at this guy who made Xiao Zhan feel so uneasy.</p><p>And then he feels dirty.</p><p>He had never wanted a tattoo, but here he is, getting a <em> second </em> tattoo -- and on his ass, no less -- and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t at least in part because he wanted to spend time with Xiao Zhan, and yes, to feel his hands on his skin.  </p><p>Yibo really wants to believe he's different from the guy who gave Xiao Zhan a bad feeling with his request for a dick tattoo -- but then again, Xiao Zhan seems like the type who would grin and bear more than he should, all in the name of being professional.</p><p>And Ru Ling isn't around to chaperone Xiao Zhan for this session, so Yibo wonders if maybe that’s why he’s telling Yibo this story -- to tell him that he <em> knows </em> why he’s really here, and that he’s not going to get what he thinks he’ll get out of this experience.</p><p>Xiao Zhan continues on with his stories of freaky tattoos and questionable situations, and Yibo falls into a morose silence, making polite noises when called for.  Inside, he's berating himself for putting Xiao Zhan in this situation for his own cheap enjoyment.</p><p>Xiao Zhan eventually notices something is off.  “Yibo?  You okay?  Is it painful?”</p><p>Yibo snaps out of his mood and tries to put a cheery note into his voice.  “Oh no -- I am just enjoying your stories, Zhan-ge!  Zhan-ge always tells the best stories.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan huffs out a laugh.  “<em> Aiyaaa</em> -- well, I’m glad I’m not hurting you this time!  It’s very individual, the pain.  Varies from place to place, too.  Or maybe you’re just used to getting your ass kicked, so this is nothing.”</p><p>Yibo must laugh too much at this, because he feels Xiao Zhan press down on his hips with his hands.  “Whoa there -- don’t laugh so hard, Lao Wang!  I’ll have to try not to be funny, or you’re going to end up with a shit tattoo.”</p><p>Yibo savors the press of Xiao Zhan’s arm on his body, and the warmth the impromptu nickname sparks in him.  Maybe he's not that guy after all.  </p><p>“Hey,” Yibo says, suddenly remembering something he’s been curious about.  “Do you have any tattoos?”</p><p>“I have one in progress.”</p><p>“Just one?  I always think of tattoo artists as the type to be covered in tattoos.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan laughs.  “Well, I didn’t start out as a tattoo artist.  I was a normal, boring graphic designer in my former life.  In a rather traditional office.  So I guess it wasn’t something I had thought of doing until I started working with Ling-ge.”</p><p>“So why-- I mean, how did you find your way here?”</p><p>There’s a long pause.  “I… I needed a change,” Xiao Zhan says slowly.  “And then I met Ling-ge and he offered to bring me in and teach me the craft.  And here I am,” he concludes, as if this abbreviated tale answers Yibo’s question.  “I’ve been lucky to benefit from Ling-ge’s experience and his reputation, and it’s... it’s been a good gig.”</p><p>Yibo sighs contentedly, lulled by the buzzing of the needle and Xiao Zhan’s smooth voice.  “And your tattoo?  Is Ru Ling inking it for you?</p><p>“Ah, no.  I designed my own tattoo and I’m working on inking it myself.”</p><p>Yibo startles.  “You can do that?”</p><p>“Oh sure!  Lots of tattoo artists practice on themselves as they learn.”</p><p>“Can I see it?”</p><p>“Oh!” Xiao Zhan laughs.  “It’s not in a place where I can show people, but I have a photo I can show you later if you like, although it’s not finished yet.  It’s a work in progress.”</p><p>Yibo worries his lip between his teeth, feeling like maybe he has once again overstepped some boundary.  “Oh, I... you -- you don’t have to.  I was just curious!”</p><p>“No no, it’s okay,” Xiao Zhan reassures him.  “You’re not the first to wonder why I don’t have any visible tattoos.  And it’s - it’s a meaningful design… I don’t mind sharing if you’re really interested.”</p><p>“I’d like that.”</p><p>The room is quiet again for a while, and Yibo loses himself in the sound of the needle.  He closes his eyes and realizes that the scratch of the needle on his backside is strangely relaxing.  That and the comforting presence beside him.</p><p>He’s about to nod off when Xiao Zhan speaks again.  “So, what’s the significance of the black panther?  And the heart and the dot?”</p><p>Yibo doesn’t know how to answer this.  “It’s just -- a cool animal I like, I guess.  Fierce and beautiful.  The heart and mo-- the dot… it’s - it’s just a symbol that came to me, I guess.”</p><p>He can hear Xiao Zhan hum in acknowledgement, and imagines his head nodding as he works.</p><p>“But you can’t look at this tattoo like you can your <em> wu gan </em> tattoo,” Xiao Zhan observes with an amused exhale.  “And where it’s located… perhaps it’s for your special someone to enjoy, eh?”</p><p>Yibo freezes, suddenly alert, and he feels sure that Xiao Zhan can see his face redden all the way to the tips of his ears.  Just thinking about someone enjoying this tattoo makes Yibo acutely aware of where Xiao Zhan’s hands are on him now, the way they’ve traveled over his body during the session, sometimes framing the skin he’s inking, sometimes resting on his hips, holding him firmly in place.  And then he imagines Xiao Zhan’s eyes on his tattoo, on his ass, maybe drifting lower as his hands pull on his hips--</p><p>He doesn’t know how long he’s been absorbed in these thoughts, but when he comes back to the room, to the hypnotizing buzz of the needle, Yibo realizes that he has missed an opportunity to tell Xiao Zhan that he doesn’t have that special person -- not yet, anyway.  <em> No, it’s for you, if you want it</em>, he wants to say.  But the moment has passed, and it feels too awkward and presumptuous now to clarify that he is very much single.  Yibo groans to himself, realizing too late that if Xiao Zhan was fishing, Yibo has left him with a tragically wrong impression.</p><p>Yibo turns to look at Xiao Zhan, careful not to move his back, and rests his head on his arms.  He hasn't really been able to look much this time because of the way he's been lying, but <em>fuck, he’s beautiful</em>.  </p><p>Xiao Zhan catches his glance and gives him a smile, but it’s a polite one, a little distant.</p><p>Yibo wants the easy banter back, and tries to think of something he could talk about to bring a real smile back to Xiao Zhan’s face, but he realizes that so much of what he wants to say would reveal who he is, and he isn’t ready for that -- even as he knows that he can’t keep his identity hidden forever.  Not if he hopes to have something other than a fleeting flirtation with this man.</p><p>“Tell me more stories, Zhan-ge,” he says.</p><p>And so Xiao Zhan does.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <em> Oh god… once this girl showed up in a panic because she went out partying and woke up with this huge tattoo… </em>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <em> ...and when she explained the story behind the angel… ah, it was hard to keep working because I just wanted to cry... </em>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <em> So I told him he probably shouldn’t tattoo his ex-girlfriend’s name across his chest, no matter how much he missed her… </em>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <em> I really thought I was going to go deaf because she screamed the entire hour… </em>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <em> ...I really hated to tell him that that wasn’t what his tattoo said… people rely too much on Google Translate, you know? </em>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>The time passes quickly as Xiao Zhan regales Yibo with stories of the kinds of tattoos people have asked for, the stories that <em> they </em> have shared with him as he worked on their tattoos, sometimes for long hours at a time.</p><p>Xiao Zhan’s warm voice soothes him, and soon the anxiety Yibo had been feeling dissolves away, and they’re back to teasing each other.  </p><p>“Ah, Zhan-ge is so handsome, everyone tells you all their secrets!” Yibo laughs.</p><p>“Oh shut up, you,” Xiao Zhan warns playfully, teeth bared.  He waves the tattoo gun menacingly.  “I’m armed, you know.  I can hurt you.”</p><p>"I know," Yibo laughs, fully aware that this is more true than Xiao Zhan could know.</p><p>The buzzing finally stops, and Yibo can hear Xiao Zhan blow out a long breath.  He feels his hands wiping the tattoo off with tissues.  “Done.”</p><p>Yibo stretches and starts to sit up, but freezes when he feels Xiao Zhan’s warm hand on his hip.</p><p>“Wait,” he says.   “Don't get up.”  He gently presses Yibo’s hip back down onto the table, and there’s a moment when neither moves to look away.  Yibo’s mouth goes dry.  </p><p>Xiao Zhan clears his throat.  “Let me <i>ahhh</i> take a photo for you so you can see it.  And then I'll need to cover the tattoo with a bandage.  I’ll -- I’ll be right back.  Don’t move.”</p><p>Yibo couldn’t if he tried.</p><p>When Xiao Zhan returns, Yibo buries his face in his arms and thinks about the last Lego car he put together, mentally does ollies on his skateboard -- anything to not think about Xiao Zhan taking a photo of his bared skin, to not focus on the feel of Xiao Zhan’s hands gently massaging petroleum jelly onto his ass.</p><p>"Here," Xiao Zhan prompts, holding his phone out, and Yibo raises his head so he can see the finished tattoo.  The silhouette of the black panther against his red skin radiates a fierce energy that steals Yibo's breath.</p><p>"I love it," Yibo says sincerely, looking up into Xiao Zhan's eyes.  He's afraid to reveal too much about what he's feeling right now, so he just adds, "Thank you."</p><p>"No need for thank you.  As long as you're happy," Xiao Zhan says with a soft smile.</p><p>"I am."</p><p>Yibo <i>is</i> happy just to be around Xiao Zhan, happy to have a memento of their time together, but he knows his yawning want for the man threatens to devour that happiness.  He pushes that greedy feeling down and returns Xiao Zhan's smile.</p><p>Yibo puts his head down and closes his eyes.  He feels Xiao Zhan carefully tape gauze over the tattoo, tries not to sigh as hands brush feather-light over his skin and pull the waistband of Yibo’s briefs back up.  He hears Xiao Zhan get up, and then his voice from too far away: “I’ll give you some privacy now.  See you out front when you’re ready, okay?”</p><p>Yibo lies there for a few minutes longer, thinking about Xiao Zhan.  The feel and sound and sight of the man.  He wants more, but knows he can't have it -- not really -- not until he can figure out how to deal with the shadow cast by his unspoken celebrity.</p><p>He keeps hoping that maybe Xiao Zhan will discover it on his own, maybe from one of the countless billboards or ads that feature his face, maybe from hearing his name on the radio, but it hasn't happened yet.  And the longer it doesn't just happen, the more awkward it gets.  And the more Yibo starts to dread the inevitable conversation.</p><p>Yibo is kind of enamored of Xiao Zhan's apparent disinterest in celebrity -- according to Jackson, Ru Ling’s clients include some of the biggest names in Chinese entertainment, but Xiao Zhan has never once name-dropped or even talked vaguely about the entertainment industry.  It’s refreshing not to have to talk about the world that has dominated his life since he was a young teen.  But it also feels like a gulf yawning between them.  Like it or not, fame is Wang Yibo’s reality and he can't avoid talking about it much longer.</p><p>He’ll tell him.  Soon, Yibo promises himself.</p><p>When Yibo finally comes out to the reception area, Xiao Zhan is busy with some paperwork.  </p><p>“You haven’t shown me your tattoo yet, Zhan-ge.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan startles at Yibo’s voice, then laughs.  “Oh, that’s right!” he says, and reaches for his iPad.</p><p>Yibo stops him.  “No, no -- it’s okay.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan looks confused, and maybe a little disappointed.  “I thought you said you wanted to see it?”</p><p>“Mn.  I do.  But… another time,” Yibo says.</p><p>There’s a pause while Xiao Zhan searches his eyes.  “Another time?”</p><p>Yibo feels hope bloom in his chest at the look Xiao Zhan gives him.  He doesn’t want to leave -- he wants to find out what that look might mean -- but work calls… and he knows he’ll return soon.  He likes Xiao Zhan too much not to.  </p><p>“Show me when I come back for my next tattoo,” he grins.  “I’ve got plans, Zhan-ge.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>References:</p><p>More than you ever wanted to know about dick tattoos:  <a href="https://www.menshealth.com/sex-women/a34497292/penis-dick-tattoo/">https://www.menshealth.com/sex-women/a34497292/penis-dick-tattoo/</a></p><p>-------------</p><p>Thanks again to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireflavoredwhiskey/pseuds/fireflavoredwhiskey">Elle</a> for the beta read and for keeping me entertained while I wrote!  Thanks also for encouraging me to give the coding a try... it was fun!</p><p>I adore hearing from readers, so don't be shy! ❤️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Yibo sets up another appointment with Xiao Zhan.</p><p>He knows he can’t keep doing this indefinitely.  At some point he’s just going to have to put his cards on the table, and tell Xiao Zhan that he likes him, that he wants to spend time with him doing something other than getting more tattoos.</p><p>But that’s easier said than done -- Yibo’s not sure he’s ready to deal with the possibility that Xiao Zhan isn’t interested.  And he has no idea how Xiao Zhan will react when he finds out he's an idol.  He has to say something soon, though.  He’s running out of places he can be inked.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The song I listened to on repeat while writing this chapter:  <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/0tEtcRNU7PKvAF2AMEDDpB">Lay Zhang’s single, <i>Tattoo</i></a></p><p>I spent a stupid amount of time coding the text chatlogs in this chapter, so don't miss them!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh god, I’m so hungry,” Jackson exclaims as they stumble into the room for the <em> Let’s Hotpot </em> shoot.  As if the day hadn’t been long enough already with all the rehearsals and performances and everything else for <em> Street Dance</em>, now the captains have to eat hotpot and <em> also </em> make witty conversation on camera.  At midnight, <em> what the fuck</em>.  Yibo loves hot pot, but right now all he wants to do is to sleep.</p><p>“Move your ass, Yibo!” Zhang Yixing laughs boisterously, and throws a hip against Yibo’s backside.</p><p>A sharp pain bursts from where Yixing bumps him.  “Fuck!” Yibo hisses, and he glares at Yixing while rubbing the spot where his new tattoo lies under his clothing.</p><p>Jackson cackles.  “You’re getting soft, Yibo!  You can do a knee drop in battle without blinking an eye, but Lay can hurt you with a little butt bump?  You’re so -- <em> oh wait a minute</em>!”  A mischievous grin blooms on his face and he dives after Yibo, reaching for his waistband.</p><p>“HEY!” Yibo yells and bats Jackson’s hands away.  “Hands off!  What the--”</p><p>“Did you?  You did, didn’t you?  Oh my god, and on your <em> ass</em>?”  Jackson snickers at Yibo, who turns bright red and backs away.</p><p>“What did he do with his ass?” Yixing asks, eager to get in on the ribbing.</p><p>“You shut up,” Yibo spits out, pointing at Jackson.</p><p>But Jackson is enjoying this too much.  “Yibo here got himself a new tat!”</p><p>Yixing grins and moves in closer.  “Oh yeah?  Can I see?”</p><p>Yibo sighs and bares his forearm to show the <em> wu gan </em> tattoo to Yixing, who runs an admiring finger across it.  “Oh, that’s awesome!  I love it.  And your manager was okay with this?”</p><p>“<em>Uhhh</em>… not really,” Yibo admits.</p><p>“Not that one -- that one was <em> weeks </em> ago!”  Jackson crowds Yibo from the other side and raises an eyebrow.  “So, you went back and got inked somewhere she can’t see, right?  Right?”  Yibo’s lip twitches and Jackson crows in triumph.  “I knew it!  Come on -- show us, or we might have to hold you down and check for ourselves--”</p><p>“Don’t--” Yibo shoves his co-captains backwards and holds his hands up.  “Okay, okay, yeah, I got another tattoo--”</p><p>“--on your <em> ass</em>?” Jackson laughs.</p><p>“My - my <em> lower hip</em>,” Yibo grits out, but it’s too late.  The two of them are hooting and hassling him for a peek at the new tattoo.</p><p>“I am <em> not </em> showing you the tat!  Just - just hold on, I have a photo, okay?”  Yibo fishes his phone out and pulls up the photo that Xiao Zhan had taken for him.</p><p>“Damn,” Jackson says.  “That’s amazing.  He’s <em> good</em>.  Really good.  Did he design this one for you too?”</p><p>Yibo nods.  “I gave him my ideas and this is what he came up with.”</p><p>Yixing grabs the phone from Yibo.  “Wow.  That’s fantastic.  And <em> uhhh</em>, nice placement?”  He grins, and Yibo blushes when he realizes that the photo shows the line of his hip and the curve of his cheek, making it clear where the tattoo lies on his body.  “Ah Yibo, wasn't that awkward, having a dude leaning over your bare ass for hours?”</p><p>“Oh, I think Yibo was fine with <em> this </em> tattoo artist putting his hands all over his perky little butt,” Jackson teases.  “Tall, lean, <em> very handsome</em>,” he informs Yixing with a quirk of his eyebrow.  “He’s got dimples to rival yours, Lay.”</p><p>“Fuck you,” Yibo mutters, but there’s no heat in it, and he fights to keep his lips from curling up into a smile at the memory of Xiao Zhan’s hands on him.</p><p>Yixing is absolutely delighted with this bit of information.  “Yibo!” he roars.  “I didn’t know you had <em> game,</em>” Yixing winks.  “What did you tell him, that you’re a famous idol who can’t have tattoos where people can see them?”  Yixing pouts dramatically and puts on a sultry voice.  “So, <em>gege</em>, I <em> uhhh </em> need to you to ink me somewhere more… <em>private.</em>”</p><p>Jackson and Yixing fall all over each other in laughter, and Yibo glowers at his traitorous co-captains.  Yixing screeches as he dodges a slap from Yibo, then promptly launches into the chorus of his single, <em> Tattoo, </em> while Jackson strikes exaggerated hip hop poses around them.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Yeah put a tattoo on me </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Put a tattoo on me </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Girl I'm feelin' you, put a tattoo on me </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>“Oh <em> wait,</em>” Yixing giggles, pointing at Yibo, and continues on with a playful wink.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><b> <em>Boy</em> </b> <em> I'm feelin' you, put a tattoo on me </em></p>
  <p><b> <em>Boy</em> </b> <em> I'm feelin' you, put a tattoo on me </em></p>
  <p>
    <em> Tattoo on me, tattoo on me </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><br/><p>“I hate you both,” Yibo grumbles.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Yibo sets up another appointment with Xiao Zhan.</p><p>He knows he can’t keep doing this indefinitely.  At some point he’s just going to have to put his cards on the table, and tell Xiao Zhan that he likes him, that he wants to spend time with him doing something other than getting more tattoos.  </p><p>But that’s easier said than done -- Yibo’s not sure he’s ready to deal with the possibility that Xiao Zhan isn’t interested.  And he has no idea how Xiao Zhan will react when he finds out he's an idol.  He has to say something soon, though.  He’s running out of places he can be inked.  </p><p>
  <em> One more tattoo.  Then I’ll tell him. </em>
</p>
<p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
    <span class="header">Zhan-ge</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>a dragon this time</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="text"><span class="hide"><b>Xiao Zhan: </b></span>A dragon, huh?</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>yeah, something strong and powerful</span><br/>
<br/>
<a href="https://i.imgur.com/1OdApAm.jpg"><span class="imagetext8"></span></a><br/>
<span class="hide"><b>Xiao Zhan: </b><em> [dragonite pokemon]</em> </span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>im not a kid zhan-ge</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="text"><span class="hide"><b>Xiao Zhan: </b></span>What?  I still like Pokemon</span><br/>
<br/>
<a href="https://i.imgur.com/IYu42oh.jpg"><span class="imagetext9"></span></a><br/>
<span class="hide"><b>Xiao Zhan: </b><em> [gyarados pokemon]</em> </span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>ah zhan-ge is so youthful</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>looks like a 97-liner</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="text"><span class="hide"><b>Xiao Zhan: </b></span>Why do you have to mock me</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>i would never!</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>zhan-ge is so handsome</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="text"><span class="hide"><b>Xiao Zhan: </b></span>Aiyoo stop</span><br/>
</p>
</div><p>Xiao Zhan sends Yibo the dragon tattoo design in advance this time, and Yibo is thrilled with the energy of it, the way the lines of the body are elegant and aggressive all at once.  Yibo likes the sense of duality it conveys.</p><p>He also likes the vibrant colors that Xiao Zhan proposes to use to bring the dragon to life.  But the addition of the color work makes it a far more ambitious tattoo than the other ones Yibo’s gotten, and Yibo’s work schedule won’t allow him enough time for the whole thing to be inked in one session.  They’ll have to meet at least twice to complete it.  </p><p>Naturally, Yibo is happy to have an excuse to come back to see Xiao Zhan yet again.  He can feel his face warm as he daydreams about what it would be like, that second tattoo session, after he’s confessed and Xiao Zhan is <em> his</em>; he pushes down the fear that he’ll be left with a half-finished tattoo if his confession goes horribly wrong.  He’s Wang Yibo.  He doesn’t give up easily.</p><p>So when the day of his appointment comes, Yibo is feeling a little emboldened.</p><p>“Okay, Zhan-ge -- you promised to show me your tattoo…” Yibo waggles his eyebrows, remembering that Xiao Zhan said it was in a place people could not see.</p><p>“A <em> photo </em> of it, yeah,” Xiao Zhan clarifies.  “This is a respectable place of business after all,” he intones with a playful grin.</p><p>“Well, now I <em> definitely </em> want to know where this tattoo is,” Yibo smirks.</p><p>Xiao Zhan gives him one of his teasing smiles.  “You can guess if you like,” and hands him his iPad.</p><p>Yibo sucks in a breath.  The tattoo is a phoenix, and it’s stunning.  The swooping lines of the fiery beast give it a vitality that draws the eye in, even in its unfinished state.  Parts of the wings and tail are inked in brilliant reds, oranges and yellows, blended together so expertly Yibo imagines that the skin there would be hot to the touch.</p><p>But it’s not just the beautiful design that Yibo can’t tear his gaze from.  Although the image is carefully cropped, Yibo can tell from the contours of the skin captured in the photo where, exactly, Xiao Zhan’s tattoo is.  He’s a dancer.  He knows the human body well.</p><p>Yibo traces a finger over the phoenix’s head and down its body and as he does it, he can imagine his hand running over Xiao Zhan’s hip, across the top of his thigh and sliding between his legs--</p><p>“Do you like it?”</p><p>Yibo startles out of his fantasy and looks up, hoping his eyes don’t give away what he’s imagining.  “It’s--” he starts, but his throat has gone dry so now he’s coughing -- and dying a little inside at how flustered he must appear.</p><p>Xiao Zhan looks entertained.  “I guess you’ve figured out where I’m inking this?”</p><p>Yibo tries and fails to control the smirk twitching on his lips.  He should be mortified that Xiao Zhan read his thoughts, but instead he feels a tingle of excitement that their minds are in the same place.  His mouth moves before his brain can stop him.  “You should be careful who you show that picture to.  You could kill a man.”</p><p>“Oh?” Xiao Zhan responds, his eyes lighting up with interest.</p><p>“I think you know that, Zhan-ge,” he says, again without thinking.</p><p>Xiao Zhan is silent for just a beat -- long enough for Yibo to start regretting his words.  Is he being too presumptuous?  It <em>feels</em> like the man is flirting with him, but maybe a picture is just a picture.</p><p>“Well then,” Xiao Zhan finally says, taking the iPad back, “this seems like a good time to discuss where you want this new tattoo of yours.”</p><p>Yibo watches as Xiao Zhan unconsciously wets his lips.  His own lips suddenly feel unbearably dry as he swallows and gives Xiao Zhan a lopsided grin.  “I don’t have a lot of options left since it needs to stay hidden…”</p><p>Xiao Zhan meets his gaze with a little shake of his head.  “You could kill a man, Yibo.”  His dark eyes bore into him from under his long lashes, teasing yet full of heat.</p><p>Yibo has no idea how to respond to this, but he feels his breath hitch at the idea that Xiao Zhan is <em> playing along</em>, volleying back Yibo’s not-so-subtle admission of thirst.  <em> Could he really…? </em>  </p><p>Yibo’s mind is still spinning around what it could all mean when Xiao Zhan abruptly steps away, returning shortly with a bundle of linens that he presses into Yibo’s arms.  It’s surprisingly heavy.</p><p>“Jeans off,” Xiao Zhan says, businesslike, without any preamble.  “Briefs too.  Lie on your back, drape the sheet over yourself, and place the weighted blanket over the sheet.”  He raises an eyebrow, as if to ask whether Yibo has understood his directions.</p><p>Yibo can feel his his breath quicken at the direct way Xiao Zhan addresses him, like it’s a <em> command</em>.  There are few people in his life who talk to him in this authoritative way, and it surprises him that it’s vaguely <em> exciting </em> coming from Xiao Zhan.  </p><p>He thinks through the directions he's been given, and realizes that if Xiao Zhan wants him to lie on his back, he has apparently decided for Yibo that the dragon tattoo will not be inked on his backside.  Yibo looks up from the pile of blankets in his arms and finds Xiao Zhan's eyes still on him, a sly smile on his lips and <em>oh no,</em> Yibo's not feeling only vague excitement now.</p><p>He’s turning to go to the back room when Xiao Zhan adds, with a playful lilt to his voice, “Oh -- and if you have the need… before we start... Well, you know where the restroom is.”</p><p> </p><p>Yibo’s lying on the table, covered up just as Xiao Zhan directed, his mind cluttered with thoughts about… <em> everything.</em>  He thinks about how much the man in the other room has gotten under his skin, in a way that no one ever has, despite the fact that Yibo still knows very little about him.</p><p>And he thinks about how Xiao Zhan doesn’t know Yibo.  Not really.  Yibo realizes he’s been fooling himself, believing that if he keeps from Xiao Zhan the fact of his celebrity, Xiao Zhan might fall for the “real Yibo.”  The idea is terribly romantic, but what, really, does that even mean if Yibo has been groomed for fame for almost half his life?  Who is the “real Yibo” without this? </p><p>Xiao Zhan steps into the room and over to Yibo’s left side to start prepping for the tattoo.  The confident move sparks <em>something</em> in Yibo, because they haven’t actually talked about where this tattoo will go.  Xiao Zhan has made the call on his own… like he’s claiming ownership of this tattoo that Yibo hopes will never be seen by anyone else -- except for the man who is about to ink it.</p><p>Yibo can barely breathe as he watches Xiao Zhan carefully tuck the sheet securely around Yibo, exposing his left hip and using the weighted blanket to hold the covering in place.  Xiao Zhan catches Yibo’s eye as he adjusts the blanket, and Yibo feels his ears redden at the visual of this beautiful man’s face looking up from where he is leaning over Yibo’s hips, lips parted slightly.</p><p>“I think we should orient the dragon this way,” Xiao Zhan tells Yibo as he traces a finger along the line of his hip, “with the head here, and avoid tattooing the skin of the groin as much as we can.”  Xiao Zhan sweeps his fingers inwards, causing Yibo to shiver and suck in a breath.  The gentle, light touch is electric on Yibo’s skin, and he is suddenly grateful for the concealing weight of the blanket.</p><p>“I can tell you from personal experience that tattooing the sensitive skin here can be very, very painful -- so I will try to avoid it as much as possible, and instead run the dragon’s body from here to here,” he says while -- <em> again, </em> to Yibo’s torment -- sweeping his fingers from hip to thigh.  Yibo winces and tries not to moan audibly at the teasing touch.  </p><p>“Okay,” Yibo grunts in agreement.  He drags his gaze away from Xiao Zhan and up to the ceiling, then starts counting the number of bolts in the beams running overhead, trying not to think about the feel of the hands still resting on his bare skin.  He’s acutely aware of the heavy press of the blanket on his dick and realizes he’s failing miserably.</p><p>If Xiao Zhan notices what his touch is doing to Yibo, he doesn’t show it.  “It’s good that we’ll be inking this tattoo over at least two sessions, so you’ll have time to heal and recover in between.  You… <em>ahh</em>  should probably go commando for a couple of days after this, to avoid irritating your skin.”  Xiao Zhan laughs as he says this, which only reminds Yibo that he’s speaking from experience.  Yibo finds himself wondering when Xiao Zhan last worked on his phoenix tattoo, what he’s <em>not</em> wearing under his soft-looking black joggers, and <em>fuck,</em> it's all he can do to <em>not</em> mentally peel them off Xiao Zhan's body.</p><p>“So I’ll trace the outline and key details today, and we’ll do the rest of the details and the colorwork next time, okay?”</p><p>Yibo nods.  “Yeah.  Okay,” he says, hoping Xiao Zhan doesn’t hear the tightness of his voice.</p><p>Xiao Zhan starts applying the tattoo stencil to his skin, and Yibo realizes he can't sit in silence and let his mind focus on the feel of Xiao Zhan’s hands.  His touch is warm and firm as his fingers sweep across--</p><p>
  <em>Talk, dammit.</em>
</p><p>“S-so Zhan-ge,” Yibo starts, clearing his throat and trying to sound remotely normal.  “Wh-why did you choose a phoenix for your one tattoo?”</p><p>Xiao Zhan hums as he continues the preparations for Yibo’s tattoo.  “Who doesn’t love the phoenix?  It’s like your <em> wu gan </em> tattoo, in a way.  When you get knocked down, you rise up again.  And again.  Right?”</p><p>It's not as if Yibo doesn't know what a phoenix represents, but this answer still surprises him somehow.  “Who knocked you down, Zhan-ge?  I would have words with them,” Yibo smiles, trying for a cheeky tone, but inside he feels an inexplicable flare of anger.</p><p>Xiao Zhan raises an eyebrow at Yibo, but his expression is opaque and he says nothing.  Yibo is disappointed that this attempt at goading the man into a reaction falls flat.  There's a story, and Yibo wants to hear it.</p><p>“Okay,” Xiao Zhan says, tattoo gun in hand.  “Last chance -- take a look, and let me know if this placement looks good, and if so, I’ll get started.”</p><p>Yibo carefully lifts himself up onto his elbows to take a look at where Xiao Zhan has positioned the image, the way the dragon curves in from his hip down to just beyond the crease of his thigh.  It should stay safely hidden even if he has to be filmed in swim trunks.  He hopes.  If not, he can always use tape or bandages to conceal it, the way other idols do.</p><p>“Let’s do it, Zhan-ge,” Yibo says with a smirk.</p><p>Xiao Zhan shoots back a teasingly menacing look and guns the needle.  “So bold, Lao Wang,” he says over the buzzing sound.  “Let’s see how long it takes before you’re begging for mercy.”</p><p>Yibo sucks in a breath when needle hits skin.  Xiao Zhan wasn’t kidding; his skin is particularly sensitive here, and the pain is keen.</p><p>“Tell me, Lao Wang,” Xiao Zhan says, his silky voice at odds with the steady <em> ZZZZZZZZ </em> of the needle, “what do you do for work that makes it so important that you keep these tattoos hidden?  This would be a lot less painful on your bicep or calf.”</p><p>Yibo groans through the pain and tries to think of what he can say.  He’s not quite ready to say the words yet, but maybe he can work his way up to that, to test the waters.  “I <em> ahhhh </em>-- I dance...”</p><p>Xiao Zhan purses his lips and nods in acknowledgment.  “So, like performances?  Or do you teach?”</p><p>Yibo thinks about <em> Street Dance </em> and <em> Produce 101</em>, and some of the other programs he’s been on.  “It’s - it’s a little of both,” he stammers, trying to mentally push aside the sharp, stinging sensation that’s shooting through his legs.  </p><p>“What kind of dance?”</p><p>“Oh, <em> ahh</em>, hip hop… I - I <em> ummm </em> like street dance…”</p><p>“Ah."  Xiao Zhan is quiet for a moment.  "And what do you do for fun?  I mean, besides getting tattoos?”</p><p>Yibo laughs at Xiao Zhan’s on-the-nose observation of his newest obsession, but inside, he feels a pang of disappointment that he’s changed topics already, as if he's not interested in learning more about Yibo's dance career.  He will have to find a different opening to tell the man who he is.</p><p>“For fun?  I ride motorcycles, I skateboard…”  He grimaces and tries to keep going with his list, but his concentration is fracturing.  “I’ve been studying magic tricks… I like LEGOs…”</p><p>Xiao Zhan grins.  “Wow, Lao Wang -- such a cool guy!  And adrenaline junkie too!  Motorcycles?  Skateboards?  <em> Aiyaa </em>… I can’t even ride a bicycle.”</p><p>Yibo croaks out a laugh despite the pain.  “Are you s-s-serious, Zhan-ge?  How - how is that possible?”</p><p>A sharp jolt of pain zings through Yibo’s belly and he crumples, his legs rising off the table involuntarily.  Xiao Zhan rapidly moves the tattoo gun out of the way and presses a steadying palm on Yibo’s hip.  “I got you, I got you,” he murmurs as Yibo relaxes.  “You okay now?”</p><p>“Ahh yeah,” Yibo breathes out.  “Ow.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan chuckles lowly.  “Maybe don’t mock the guy stabbing a needle into your skin?” Xiao Zhan warns, waving the tattoo gun in his direction.</p><p>“You - you did that <em> on purpose? </em>” Yibo squawks.  “So heartless, Zhan-ge.  I didn’t know you had that in you…”</p><p>“Oh god no, Lao Wang!  I can be bad, but I’m not cruel.”  </p><p>"B-bad?" Yibo stutters, a shaky half-smirk on his face.  "Now I want to know more about Zhan-ge's bad side..."</p><p>A smirk ghosts over Xiao Zhan's lips, but he doesn't take the bait.  “I warned you that this could be especially painful.  But still… don't be such a brat!” he laughs as the needle buzzes to life again.  “I grew up in the mountains, so had no opportunity to learn to ride a bicycle, you know.”</p><p>“Ah, sorry sorry,” Yibo relents.  “It’s - it’s adorable!  I would <em> never </em> mock Zhan-ge,” he tries to say seriously.</p><p>“I don’t believe you,” Xiao Zhan pouts.  “Lao Wang is too cool for me.”</p><p>“Nonsense.  Zhan-ge is the perfect man,” Yibo smiles, and delights in the shy smile that blooms in response.</p><p>"You're a menace, you really are."</p><p>Yibo grins in smug satisfaction and then sucks in a breath as another zap of pain hits him.  “S-so, <em>ahh,</em> what does Zhan-ge like to do in his s-spare time?”</p><p>“Ah, nothing interesting,” Xiao Zhan says dismissively.  “I’m a pretty boring person.  I work, I go home.”</p><p>“No, I refuse to believe -- <em> ahhh </em> -- that you’re boring.  Tell me.”</p><p>“I paint and draw.  I like to read.  Run.  Cook.  Sing.”</p><p>Yibo’s ears perk up, happy to get a snapshot of who Xiao Zhan is, and to discover that they share an interest he can use to tell him about his idol life.  “You sing!  I - I love to sing too. What are some of - of your favorite artists?”</p><p>Xiao Zhan is quiet for a moment, then smiles. “Stefanie Sun is a favorite.  I also like Yisa Yu, Na Ying… but I enjoy a lot of different artists.”  His eyes flick over to Yibo.  “Don’t laugh at me -- I am kind of into bitter love songs.”</p><p>“I'm into bitter love songs too,” Yibo insists sincerely.  “M-my favorite song is <em> Nanhai.</em>  Doesn’t get too - too much more bitter than that.”</p><p>“Yeah, that’s pretty angsty,” Xiao Zhan agrees with a laugh.</p><p>“What’s yours?  Your favorite song, I mean.”</p><p>“Mmm, probably <em> Kepler</em>.  Stefanie, of course.”</p><p>“Oh, I love that one too,” Yibo nods -- and then he’s seized by a crazy idea.  “Hey -- would you - you sing it for me?”</p><p>“What?” Xiao Zhan squeaks.  “You want me to sing?”</p><p>Yibo bats his eyelashes.  “Please, Zhan-ge?  Sing for me?  I’m in such - such <em> pain </em> right now," he whines dramatically.  "It would make me feel s-so much better.”</p><p>“<em>Aish</em>, Yibo, are you even human?  What nonsense.”</p><p>“I’m serious, Zhan-ge.  Sing?”</p><p>Xiao Zhan narrows his eyes at Yibo in mock exasperation, but sighs.  “Fine, I’ll sing.  But you be nice,” he laughs, brandishing the tattoo gun again.  "No laughing."</p><p>"I promise," Yibo vows.</p><p>He starts to sing.  Yibo had begged Xiao Zhan to sing for him, thinking that maybe it would somehow make it easier for him to confess who he is and what he wants from Xiao Zhan; there’s also something about the smooth, liquid tone of the man’s voice that Yibo wanted to hear more of.  But even though Yibo had imagined that Xiao Zhan would have a pleasant singing voice, he honestly didn’t expect what he was hearing, for his voice to be so clear and lovely in song.  </p><p>Yibo drinks in the sweet purity of Xiao Zhan’s voice, the soothing sensation of it in the lower register, the <em> release </em> Yibo feels in his chest as it effortlessly soars to the high notes.  When the last note fades away, Yibo is silent, at a loss for words.  It seems wrong to Yibo that no one else had been there to experience what he heard, that maybe Xiao Zhan keeps this gift all to himself and doesn’t share it.</p><p>Xiao Zhan dips his head in apology when Yibo doesn’t say anything.  “Sorry, I’m rusty -- it’s been awhile…”</p><p>“Oh my god no,” Yibo protests.  “That was really... amazing.  So beautiful.  It really was.  Better than Stefanie herself, if you ask me.”</p><p>“<em>Aiyaa</em>,” Xiao Zhan says with a roll of his eyes.  “No need to lay it on so thick, Lao Wang.”</p><p>“I mean it, Zhan-ge!” Yibo insists, getting excited about where the conversation is headed.  “Please tell me you sing for others -- on stage?”</p><p>“Oh no, just in the shower,” Xiao Zhan giggles, and Yibo swoons a little, imagining the man singing, wet under a spray of water.  “Maybe while I cook.”</p><p>“What a waste!” Yibo exclaims.  “You should be singing on a stage, not just at home.  Zhan-ge is so devastatingly handsome and sings so beautifully, he could be an idol!”</p><p>Yibo is ready for Xiao Zhan to bashfully push back on the praise, to maybe escalate their banter, for there to be a natural segue for Yibo to add, <em> I know, because I’m an idol, Zhan-ge, </em> but unexpectedly, Xiao Zhan’s face quickly shutters and all the playfulness goes out of his voice.  </p><p>He fixes his eyes back down on his work.  “Why would I want to be an <em>idol?</em>”  </p><p>Yibo’s heart drops into his stomach at the way Xiao Zhan spits this question out, as if the idea is not only unthinkable, but <em> distasteful.</em></p><p><em>I’m an idol, Zhan-ge.</em>  He’d finally been ready to say it, but the words die on his lips. <em> I’m an idol. </em></p><p> </p><p>After Xiao Zhan has finished the outline of the dragon and shuts off the tattoo gun for the last time, Yibo knows he’s almost out of time to explain to Xiao Zhan who he is, what he’s feeling for him.  After they’ve spent so many hours together, the fact that Yibo still hasn’t even managed to come clean about his identity looms like a wall between them.  </p><p>Xiao Zhan covers the tattoo in silence; he doesn't need to explain tattoo care to Yibo anymore, but that's not really the point.  In the depressing quiet that stretches between them, Yibo finds he can’t stop thinking about the disgust on Xiao Zhan’s face when Yibo told him he could be an idol…  If that’s how he feels about idols, then maybe it’s better to get it out in the open now, to know for sure where he stands, whether he can keep hoping for something more.</p><p>Yibo thinks about saying it before Xiao Zhan leaves the room.  He thinks about it when he goes out to the reception area.  He thinks about it as they’re saying goodbye, and still the words don’t come.  <em> I’m chickening out</em>, Yibo thinks, miserably.  <em> I’m gonna be gone for a week and a half and this will be hanging over everything, like a cloud</em>.  </p><p>Since the day he met Xiao Zhan, he had been clinging to the idea that anything was possible, the nervous excitement of <em> maybe maybe not</em>.  As long as Xiao Zhan never said <em> no</em>, Yibo could still dream, and the only way to be sure he’d never hear that <em> no </em> was to never ask the question in the first place.  But now the weight of what they don’t know about each other, what Yibo is hiding -- it all stands in the path to something more.  And Yibo wants more.</p><p>Yibo’s hand stills on the door as he realizes that he just needs to know.  Good or bad, he needs to know.</p><p>He spins on his heel to go back to Xiao Zhan and suddenly finds himself chest to chest with him, his face just inches away.  Yibo gasps in surprise, but neither of them backs away.  Yibo searches his eyes, tries to read his expression.  His eyes flicker down to his lips, that sexy little mole, so tantalizingly close.  </p><p>“Zhan-ge,” he breathes, willing himself to speak.  “I - I’m--”</p><p>He doesn’t finish his thought.  </p><p>Yibo’s confession is still on his tongue when their lips crash together in a desperate kiss, like a dam of pent-up want breaking. It happens so suddenly that his only thought is <em> oh fuck I am kissing him I am actually kissing him Xiao Zhan is actually kissing m</em>-- Yibo winds one hand around the nape of Xiao Zhan’s neck, the other around his back, drawing him in tight even as he feels Xiao Zhan’s mouth already greedily licking into his and nipping at his lips.</p><p>Yibo loses himself in the kiss. The sensation is overwhelming: the heady taste of Xiao Zhan’s breath on his lips, the press of a firm chest against his, the ripple of a muscled back under his palm.</p><p>Yibo feels himself knocked off balance by Xiao Zhan’s height, the way it bends him slightly backwards, vulnerable, into the taller man’s strong arms.</p><p>He scrabbles for purchase, sliding one arm lower to steady himself, his hand coming to rest on Xiao Zhan’s ass.  He runs his hand over the firmness of it and pulls him in, their hips touching as they continue to kiss.</p><p>Yibo's heart is pounding with the thrill of finally being <em> here, </em> in his arms, when he feels Xiao Zhan’s hard length connect with his tender, just-inked skin.  He sucks in a sharp breath, partly from shock and partly from actual pain.</p><p>Xiao Zhan immediately loosens his hold, and Yibo blinks rapidly, stumbling back a bit as they break apart.</p><p>“Shit,” Xiao Zhan pants.  “I’m sorry. I forgot--”</p><p>Yibo laughs breathlessly, a little lightheaded. “No, that was me--”  He moves in for another kiss, but Xiao Zhan gently pushes back, running his palms down Yibo’s chest to hold him off at arm’s length.  </p><p>The spell is broken.</p><p>“You - you’ve gotta go, don’t you?” Xiao Zhan says in a low voice.</p><p>Yibo looks at Xiao Zhan blankly, not understanding what he’s saying.  The idea that he would want to be anywhere else is ludicrous. “What?”</p><p>“Work,” Xiao Zhan prods.  “Isn’t that why - why you couldn’t stay for a longer session?”</p><p>“O-Oh,” Yibo mumbles, straightening up and raking his hands through his hair.  “Yeah, right.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan gives him a fond smile and opens his mouth to speak, but is interrupted by the buzz of his phone on the counter.  “I’m sorry--” he picks up the phone and looks at Yibo apologetically.  “One moment?”</p><p>“Yeah, sure,” Yibo says automatically, trying to collect his racing thoughts.  He nervously pats down his disheveled clothing as he waits.</p><p>Xiao Zhan returns to his call.  “Ling-ge -- hi.  Can you hold the line for a second?  I’m just seeing a client out.”</p><p><em>A client. </em> Yibo winces, then scolds himself for the reaction.  What was Xiao Zhan <em> supposed </em> to say to his boss about what he was just up to?</p><p>“I’m - I’m so sorry, Yibo, I really have to take this call.  Ling-ge is off in the mountains today and I don’t know when I’ll get to talk to him otherwise.  But… you’ve got--?”</p><p>Yibo nods.  “Yeah.  Yeah.  I have to go anyway.  But I’ll - I’ll be back in a week and a half or so?  So -- I’ll message you later to set something up?”  <em> I’m a client.  A client. </em></p><p>“Sounds good.”</p><p>An awkward moment hangs between them, each imperceptibly moving in for some kind of farewell that they’re not sure that they should want or have.</p><p>Yibo makes the decision for them, placing a hand on the back of Xiao Zhan’s neck and bringing him in for a chaste kiss.  He thinks about how long it will be before he can see Xiao Zhan again, and the feel of his soft lips on his is devastating.</p><p>“I’ll - I'll be back soon.  Wait for me?”</p><p>“Go on, you’ll be late,” Xiao Zhan chides with a gentle smile.</p><p>He really doesn’t want to, but he leaves.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Later that night, Yibo is sitting in the <em> Street Dance </em>practice room, eyes closed, fingers on his lips.  The kiss he shared with Xiao Zhan feels like a dream; he can still feel the man’s warm lips on his, the taste of his tongue, the heat of his breath on his face.  </p><p>It’s what he has been fantasizing about for weeks now, to know that Xiao Zhan wants him the way he wants him, to know his touch.  He should feel elated.  But now Yibo is at work, a week and a half away from seeing Xiao Zhan again, and his triumph feels incomplete, interrupted.</p><p>He takes out his phone.</p>
<p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
    <span class="header">Zhan-ge</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>i cant stop thinking about that kiss</span><br/>
<br/>
</p>
</div><p>He chews his bottom lip. Then, before he loses his nerve, he types again and hits send immediately.</p>
<p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody"><br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>tell me u feel the same way</span><br/>
<br/>
</p>
</div><p>Yibo stares at the screen, feeling his face get hot -- he’s not sure what response he hopes to get, but it’s too late to take it back.  After a few tense minutes, though, Xiao Zhan replies.</p>
<p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody"><br/>
<span class="text"><span class="hide"><b>Xiao Zhan: </b></span>I'm sorry Yibo</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="text"><span class="hide"><b>Xiao Zhan: </b></span>I shouldn’t have</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="text"><span class="hide"><b>Xiao Zhan: </b></span>It was unprofessional of me</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>no</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>dont say that zhan-ge</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="text"><span class="hide"><b>Xiao Zhan: </b></span>I’m sorry</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>xiao zhan</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>can i call u? videochat?</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>please</span><br/>
<br/>
</p>
</div><p>He holds his breath and watches as tiny dancing dots appear, a sign that Xiao Zhan is still there.</p>
<p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody"><br/>
<span class="text"><span class="hide"><b>Xiao Zhan: </b></span>I don’t think that’s a good idea</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>then i will come see u</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>tonight</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="text"><span class="hide"><b>Xiao Zhan: </b></span>No</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="text"><span class="hide"><b>Xiao Zhan: </b></span>You have your show</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="text"><span class="hide"><b>Xiao Zhan: </b></span>You have your fans</span><br/>
<br/>
</p>
</div><p><em>Shit</em>.  Yibo’s fingers freeze over the keyboard, white noise echoing in his brain.  He inhales a lungful of air before typing again, his palms sweaty.</p>
<p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody"><br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>u know</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>u know about me</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>since when?</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="text"><span class="hide"><b>Xiao Zhan: </b></span>It doesn’t matter</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>zhan-ge</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>please wait</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>i can explain everything</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>when im back</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="text"><span class="hide"><b>Xiao Zhan: </b></span>I think you need to find a different artist</span><br/>
<br/>
</p>
</div><p><em> What? </em> Yibo furrows his brow, knuckles white from gripping his phone so tightly.  He tries to relax, but now his thoughts are running wild.  <em> How did we end up here? </em></p>
<p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody"><br/>
<span class="text"><span class="hide"><b>Xiao Zhan: </b></span>I’m sorry Yibo</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>no</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>zhange</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>zhan-ge</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>please dont</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>im sorry i didnt tell u before</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>please talk to me</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>zhan-ge</span><br/>
<br/>
</p>
</div><p>⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Yibo yanks open the now-familiar door marked with a red wolf.</p><p>The whole week and a half that he’s been away, he’s tortured himself with thoughts of Xiao Zhan, trying to figure out what happened after he last walked through this door.  How they could have gone from a heated kiss that Yibo still can’t stop thinking about, full of the promise of something more, to this: a cold, bewildering silence.</p><p>Xiao Zhan found out who Yibo was, that much was obvious.  Yibo remembers the breathless panic he felt when he’d gotten Xiao Zhan’s texts, the ones that made clear that he knew Yibo was not just some regular guy wanting a tattoo, that the “work” he needed to get to that night was to perform on a nationally-televised dance competition watched by millions of people.  </p><p>Yibo doesn’t know how he found out, what he thinks he knows, whether it would have made any difference if Yibo had managed to tell him himself -- or even why the truth of who he is should have led to this.</p><p>Does Xiao Zhan feel lied to?  Or does he just hate idols that much?  The way Xiao Zhan reacted to being told he could be an idol suggests that perhaps he does.  But Yibo has no idea, about anything, because Xiao Zhan never said -- he hasn’t responded to any of Yibo’s messages since that night.  </p><p>It might be hopeless, coming to <em> Red Wolf </em> today, but Yibo’s need to know the answers to these questions is starting to eat him alive.  He feels his eyes prickle with hot tears every time he looks at his half-finished tattoo, his chest tightening with a kind of helpless frustration that he’s not used to.  The skin has healed, but the sight of it still hurts.  </p><p>Maybe, like his tattoo, he just needs Xiao Zhan to give him closure, so he’s not left with this sad, cut-off story.</p><p>Inside, he hears the distant buzz of a tattoo gun, and he can feel his heart start to pound with the anticipation of seeing Xiao Zhan again, the faint hope that he can still fix whatever went wrong.</p><p>A man comes to the reception desk, pulling off a set of latex gloves.  Yibo feels his shoulders slump when he realizes it’s not the person he most wants to see.  Instead, the man is stocky, bald, and sporting full sleeves of tattoos -- exactly how Yibo would have imagined a tattoo artist to look.  Before he met Xiao Zhan, anyway.  </p><p>“Welcome to <em> Red Wolf. </em>  Can I help you?”</p><p>“Uhh, yeah,” Yibo says, trying to sound casual.  “Is Xiao Zhan here?”</p><p>“I’m sorry, no, he’s not.”  The man’s face lights up in recognition.  “Hey, you’re Wang Yibo… you’ve been awesome in <em> Street Dance</em>.  I’m a huge fan.”</p><p>Yibo nods absently, “Oh thanks, cool.  So, <em> umm </em> when do you expect Xiao Zhan back?”</p><p>“Ah,” the man says with a tilt of his head.  “I don’t.  He’s opening a new branch of <em> Red Wolf</em>, actually.”</p><p>Yibo takes his phone out.  He won’t be able to rest until he sees him and has a chance to talk to him.  “What’s the address?”</p><p>The man looks at Yibo with an apologetic smile.</p><p>“Taipei.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>❤️ Don't freak out -- I promise updates are coming!  In the meantime, feel free to emote in comments (but please yell *with* me and not *at* me)...</p><p>As always, huge thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireflavoredwhiskey/pseuds/fireflavoredwhiskey">Elle</a> for helping me get the feelios just right in this chapter and for taking breaks with me to scream about the boys!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“So was he cute?”</p><p>“...”</p><p>“Spill.”</p><p>-------------</p><p>Tattoo artist Xiao Zhan has thoughts about his new client.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <b>TWO MONTHS EARLIER</b>
  </em>
</p><p>“Lulu, I’m home!”  Xiao Zhan calls out his arrival as he toes off his shoes at the door.  There’s no answer, so he follows the sound of the TV and finds his roommate sobbing on the couch.</p><p>“Oh god, it’s so sad!” Xuan Lu wails.  “He was just about to confess, but she had already--”</p><p>“No, stop!” Xiao Zhan scowls playfully and covers his ears.  “You were supposed to wait for me before watching!  I can’t believe you.  You deserve these tears.”</p><p>“But you were so late in coming back,” she sniffs, pausing the show.  “Where have you been, anyway?”</p><p>Xiao Zhan throws himself down on the couch next to her, pulls the elastic from his ponytail, and shakes out his hair.  “I had a walk-in client today.  A guy came in for his first tattoo.  Didn’t want to rush it.”</p><p>Lulu leans in and studies his face.  “What’s that smile?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Don’t ‘what’ me,” she laughs, “I’ve known you for too long not to be able to read your face.”</p><p>“<em>Aiyaaa.</em>”  Xiao Zhan rolls his eyes, but can’t stop the grin creeping across his lips.</p><p>“So was he cute?”</p><p>“...”</p><p>“Spill.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan gives Lulu a fond shove.  She’s been his best friend, his ride-or-die, since art school.  She’s watched him try to hide his nerves for important presentations, keep a stiff upper lip in the face of parental pressure.  The big stuff.  She knows him.</p><p>“I can’t keep anything from you, can I?”  He giggles, recalling Yibo’s wide-eyed gaze and shy smile, and chews nervously on his own shy smile.  “Yes, he was cute.  Really cute.”</p><p>“Zhanzhan,” she chides with a knowing look, “please say you took it easy on him.”</p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he exclaims.  “I'm always nice!”</p><p>“Uh-huh.  I know you like to play with your food before you eat it.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan’s mouth drops open.  “Lulu!”</p><p>“I’ve seen it, don’t try to pretend.  These poor boys never know what hit them.”</p><p>“Lies!” he shoots back with an exaggerated, tongue-in-cheek glare.  He knows there’s a kernel of truth to her teasing because he’s always enjoyed the flirting, that little dance with someone new, even if that's all it is.  It’s just... he can hardly remember the last time he felt like playing, when anyone has put a helpless smile on his face.  </p><p>Lulu’s musical laughter rings out even as she claps her hands to her mouth.  It’s been too long since she’s had an opportunity to tease her friend like this.  “So… did this one forget his name?”</p><p>Xiao Zhan thinks a moment and chuckles.  “Only briefly.  He recovered well.  Eventually.  Asked for my WeChat after.”  He can’t stifle the twitch of a smile on his lips.  </p><p>“Ahhhhaaaa,” Lulu says, her eyes widening with interest.  She pulls her phone out.  “Name?”</p><p>“No way,” he protests, shaking his head.  “Last time I gave you a name, you dug up so much stuff online, I couldn’t look the guy in the eye again without cringing.  It was terrible.”</p><p>Lulu flings a cushion at his head.  “Well, it’s better to know than not, isn’t it?”</p><p>“Not necessarily!  And you know, not everything you find online is true.”  Xiao Zhan cocks an eyebrow, and Lulu sighs.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah.  I know,” she murmurs.</p><p>“Anyway,” he goes on, in the tone of a man trying to convince himself as much as his roommate, “He’s a client, so he’s off-limits.  And I’m in charge while Ling-ge is away, so...  Really can’t be messing around.”</p><p>“Stop looking for excuses, Zhanzhan!  He’s cute, he’s interested--”</p><p>“He’s a <em>client,</em>” Xiao Zhan repeats, and looks away, avoiding her accusatory glare.  His eyes fall on the TV screen, the actors’ faces frozen in the middle of an emotional scene, probably the aborted confession Lulu was crying over.  A missed connection.  He wonders whether there will be a happy ending for them.</p><p>Lulu hums, shaking her head like she’s heard this all before.  “But didn’t you finish his tattoo tonight?”  She picks up the remote and points at him with it.  “Technically, you know, he’s not your client anymore.”</p><p> </p><p>Later that night, after he’s settled in bed, Xiao Zhan is still thinking about Yibo.  How shy and adorably tongue-tied he was, the way he looked at him while biting those plush lips of his…  Beautifully, perfectly flustered, as if he'd stepped out of one of the K-dramas Xiao Zhan watches with Lulu.  </p><p><em>Kind of like an idol,</em> he frowns.  So of course Xiao Zhan would find him attractive.  Idols are like fast food, after all, engineered to make you want them, even if you shouldn’t.</p><p>But maybe it’s unfair to dismiss Yibo for being so pretty.  Xiao Zhan thinks about the <em>wu gan</em> tattoo and how it hints at something beyond the pretty face, like Yibo is someone who has been through some things.  Xiao Zhan feels certain that he saw flickers of that <em>something more</em> in Yibo’s gaze.  </p><p>It makes him think.  </p><p>It’s not long before he’s thinking about what he went through while inking Yibo.  The curious <em>thump thump</em> in his chest whenever his eyes met Yibo’s.  The warmth he felt burning to the tips of his ears when he sat shoulder to shoulder with him, their faces so close together he could hear Yibo’s breath quickening and then hitching as he rode through the sting of the needle.  </p><p>Under the covers, Xiao Zhan’s hand slides down his belly as he pictures Yibo in his mind, the pink flush on his cheeks, the slight sheen of sweat at his hairline, the labored panting as he tips his head back ever so slightly, mouth falling open…  </p><p>It’s too easy to envision Yibo’s face contorted like that in ecstasy rather than in pain.</p><p>These images and sounds of Yibo play on a loop in Xiao Zhan’s mind as he takes himself in his hand.  He allows a satisfied smirk to creep over his lips as he remembers how Yibo had nervously excused himself to the restroom and came back languid and yet <em>more</em> flushed.  </p><p>The way Yibo’s eyes skittered away when Xiao Zhan had asked him if he felt better told him everything he needed to know about what Yibo had been up to.  </p><p>Just imagining Yibo desperately chasing release, despite the fact that Xiao Zhan was close by -- and maybe <em>because</em> of it -- is more than enough to push him over the edge.  </p><p><em>Okay,</em> he thinks as he’s drifting off to sleep.  <em>I’ll call him.</em></p><p> </p><p>⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘</p><p> </p><p>Yibo is still a client, <em>goddammit.</em></p><p>Xiao Zhan woke to a message from Yibo about how he wants another tattoo, and now he’s barraging him with message after message about what he wants Xiao Zhan to design for him.  </p><p>Even as Xiao Zhan sadly puts Yibo back into the “client” box, he can’t help but feel like Yibo has an agenda other than being a demanding client.  It turns out that the heart of a gremlin beats within the pretty exterior, and so, as their chat goes on over the following days and nights, Xiao Zhan finds himself struggling to keep up his professional demeanor.</p>
<p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
    <span class="header">Yibo</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Xiao Zhan: </b></span>You don’t have an idea for this tattoo?</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="text"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>arent u the designer?</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Xiao Zhan: </b></span>But it’s your body</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="text"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>what would u want to see on it?</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Xiao Zhan: </b></span>...</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="text"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>im waiting...</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Xiao Zhan: </b></span>Are you for real?</span><br/>
</p>
</div><p>Eventually, Yibo decides that he wants a black panther tattoo, but even then he seems more interested in bantering with Xiao Zhan about it than in nailing down the exact design.  </p><p>Like when Xiao Zhan asks where he wants the panther to be inked, so he can plan out the size and orientation of the tattoo, or the optimal pose to depict -- the kind of information a designer needs to know -- Yibo is weirdly squirrelly about it, sending back silly memes instead.  <em>Maybe the guy's just indecisive,</em> Xiao Zhan thinks, so he works on a design that he feels could work on a number of different body parts.  </p><p>Thinking about Yibo’s body, though, is distracting.</p><p>He’s reminded of his struggles when Yibo arrives for his appointment.  He’s dressed in jeans and a button-up shirt thrown over a tee, hair casually mussed, and still looks unfairly good.  The effect is multiplied when Yibo greets him with a cocky half smirk.  <em>Far too hot to be available,</em> Xiao Zhan thinks.</p><p>It’s a reasonable conclusion.  Yibo had had plenty to say about black panthers, but despite a frankly shocking number of text messages, he had given Xiao Zhan almost no concrete instructions or ideas for the tattoo design, leaving him to guess at everything.  There was only one thing Yibo insisted on including.</p>
<p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
    <span class="header">Yibo</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="text"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>can u make sure u include a heart in the design?</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="text"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>with a dot underneath -- like this ❤️.</span><br/>
</p>
</div><p>Xiao Zhan has worked with enough clients to know that these kinds of requests have meaning, almost always for another person.  Someone special.</p><p>“Didn’t you ask?” Lulu wonders when Xiao Zhan tells her about Yibo’s tattoo session later that night.</p><p>“I did!  But he just ignored my question, didn’t answer it at all,” the disappointment in his voice still fresh.  “I mean, I shouldn’t be surprised, right?  An ass that hot obviously belongs to someone else already.”  Xiao Zhan sighs and rubs his eyes, as if this would erase the visual of Yibo lying prone on his table, one pliant, perfect cheek bared before him.  </p><p>He could still feel it, the pale, unblemished skin, firm and supple under his fingers.  It felt like an illicit pleasure to let his fingers trail teasingly along the planes of Yibo’s body, first over his clothes, and then on his bare skin.  He feels the heat of guilt on his face as he remembers how his hand roamed lower and lower on his “canvas” -- even as Yibo had purred, <em>“mmnn… yeah...</em>” in response to his touch. </p><p>Who was he kidding?  He would be seeing Yibo’s ass in his mind for many nights to come, maybe gripped within his hands, and probably overlaid with an audio track of Yibo gasping for breath while he was being tattooed for the first time.</p><p>Lulu’s voice rudely interrupts his reverie.  “You never know, Zhanzhan.  I mean,” and she giggles here, “didn’t you say you thought he was… <em>ummm,</em> how do I say this?  Having to go take care of his needs in the middle of his tattoo sessions?  It kind of sounds to me like he’s into you, no?”</p><p>The corners of Xiao Zhan’s lips quirk up at the memory of Yibo excusing himself to the bathroom and coming back with a telltale guilty look on his face, <em>again.</em>  But he won’t let himself get carried away in a hopeless fantasy, a crush on a guy who already has someone important enough to be memorialized in a tattoo.  </p><p>“Ahh, Lulu, it’s a guy thing,” he shrugs.  “It just happens sometimes.  It doesn’t need to mean anything.”</p><p>“Mn,” she hums with a skeptical look on her face.  “So is that what happened to you when you went out on that blind date with that guy a couple of months back?  The one with the greasy hair and bad breath?”</p><p>He cringes at the memory.  That was not a good night.  “Well no, but…”</p><p>“Okay, so…”</p><p>“It doesn’t mean he’s not already taken, is what I’m saying.”</p><p>“Now you’re just being contrary,” Lulu grumbles.  “Why can’t you just admit you’re into him and he’s into you?  I distinctly recall you grinning stupidly over your phone while messaging with him the last couple of weeks.”</p><p>“We were talking about the tattoo!  Strictly professional.”</p><p>Lulu sighs, exasperated.  “Fine, you want to be alone forever, then be like this.”</p><p>“I didn’t say that!” he protests.  He slumps over, dropping his head on Lulu’s lap with a bitter exhale.  “I just… I think he’s just playing.”</p><p>Lulu’s eyes soften, and she gently pets his hair like he’s an overgrown cat.  “A-Zhan.  You can’t make that your default assumption every time. You need to--”</p><p>“Yeah, I know.  But maybe it’s not this guy, okay?  Anyway,” he pouts, “he said he’s coming back for another tattoo, so… <em>client-zoned.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘</p><p> </p><p>A couple of nights later over dinner, Xiao Zhan grins at Lulu and tells her, with a tinge of excitement in his voice, “he’s asked for a dragon tattoo.”</p><p>“Okay, and…?”</p><p>“You know I’ve been inking my own tattoo, right?”</p><p>Lulu looks at Xiao Zhan expectantly.  She’s not getting it.  “Zhanzhan, help me out here?”</p><p>Xiao Zhan huffs an impatient exhale.  “The phoenix?  The phoenix and the dragon?  They’re a legendary pair, the ultimate symbol of love?”</p><p>She stares at him, silent.</p><p>“Look, I didn’t tell him what I was inking, and this is what he asks for?  You don’t think that’s <em>interesting</em>?”</p><p>“Ahh,” Lulu says, rolling her eyes.  “So you ignore the fact that he keeps coming back to see you for tattoos, is very obviously turned on by you, messages you constantly…  But he asks for a dragon tattoo -- which, by the way, is a pretty common tattoo design -- and <em>this</em> is what you’re going to go with to convince you that maybe he likes you?”</p><p>“I--”</p><p>“Whatever gets you there, Zhanzhan!” she exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air.  She stands up from the dining room table with an <em>ugh!</em> and heads to the kitchen.  “If it’s not going to be the actual signals he’s throwing your way, then let it be some crazy superstition -- why not!”</p><p>Xiao Zhan listens to his roommate muttering to herself, and even the way she’s opening and shutting cabinets and drawers announces that she's <em>done</em> with Xiao Zhan and his stubborn refusal to do something about his feelings for Yibo.</p><p>The thing is… maybe the crazy superstition, some cosmic joke, fits what he’s feeling better than what Yibo himself is doing and saying.  Xiao Zhan can’t explain why that would be, but it <em>feels right.</em>  Because he hasn’t been able to get Yibo out of his mind, even though he has every reason not to be thinking about him.  He’s young.  He’s a <em>client.</em>  He’s… he’s...</p><p>
  <em>He’s what?</em>
</p><p>Xiao Zhan’s mind goes to that loose thread he’s been carefully ignoring since the day he met Yibo, and starts pulling on it.  Xiao Zhan’s not an idiot.  He knows that Ru Ling is the tattoo artist to the stars and has made private house calls to ink some of the most famous people in China.  The thought has crossed Xiao Zhan’s mind that Jackson Wang is one of those celebrity clients.  </p><p>And if Yibo is one of his friends....</p><p>But he hasn’t made any effort to find out.  He’s avoided it, really.  He doesn’t want to risk ruining the fantasy that Yibo is just a normal guy.  A regular cute guy that maybe Xiao Zhan could ask out sometime when he’s, you know, <em>not a client anymore.</em></p><p>It’s becoming clearer, though, that Yibo is not just a regular guy.  He was weirdly surprised that Xiao Zhan didn’t know who Jackson was.  He’s been too cagey about his job.  And what job does he have where he can’t have visible tattoos, and “visible” means everything but the most intimate parts of his body?  </p><p>Most importantly, Yibo is just <em>hot.</em>  Like, <em>idol hot.</em>  Even when he shows up for his appointments with Xiao Zhan all soft and unstyled and in casual clothing, there’s just something about the way he carries himself, like he knows to cock his hip just so, to look up through his lashes at a specific angle, to lick his lip and bite it <em>like this.</em>  </p><p>He has to know that when he does these things, he’s chipping away at Xiao Zhan’s resolve bit by bit -- and, well, Xiao Zhan can’t have that.  He’s not a weak man, dammit.  He knows what he wants and what he doesn’t, and he <em>knows</em> he doesn’t want to get involved with an idol.</p><p>But maybe... maybe if it’s fate, something inevitable and uncontrollable, he doesn’t have to think too hard about it.  Just let it happen.  Roll with it.  Maybe.</p><p>So Xiao Zhan decides to keep an open mind.  </p><p>Yibo takes that opening and shoves his way in.  </p><p>He’s already blown up Xiao Zhan’s first impression of him as sweet and shy; the man is actually a thirsty menace.  That much is clear by the time Yibo shows up for the first session for his new dragon tattoo.</p><p>When Xiao Zhan shows Yibo the photo of his phoenix tattoo, he expects a reaction, maybe a smirk or a raised eyebrow if he can tell where he’s inking it.</p><p>He isn’t ready for Yibo’s heated declaration about what the glimpse of his bare hip is making him feel.  Or his accusation that Xiao Zhan knows exactly what he’s doing to him. </p><p>
  <em>You could kill a man.<br/>
I think you know that, Zhan-ge.</em>
</p><p>Xiao Zhan feels that one in his chest, that delightful vibration when the game is on.  He can’t help but throw it right back when Yibo makes it clear where his next tattoo needs to go, because Xiao Zhan really does think that spending hours tattooing Yibo’s groin might kill him.</p><p>Except -- Yibo didn't actually tell Xiao Zhan to tattoo him there.  It’s because there isn’t a lot of space left for a tattoo that won’t be seen that Xiao Zhan decided for him.  He designed the tattoo, after all, and knows where it would fit best.  He might even have planned it that way.</p><p>The fact that Yibo lets him decide where he should be marked makes him <em>feel things.</em></p><p>As he tucks the sheet around Yibo, carefully exposing the skin to be tattooed, Xiao Zhan can feel time slowing down, his whole body painfully aware of the dangerous minefield he’s walking now.  Yibo is uncharacteristically quiet, his body eerily still, as if he also knows that just one accidental swipe of fabric lies between a normal tattoo session, and something distinctly wilder.</p><p>Xiao Zhan is relieved to have the weighted blanket on hand.  They’d requisitioned a few because they found that the pressure of the extra weight was comforting for their more nervous clients.  But they have also proven useful for holding sheets and other coverings in place -- and for concealing any bodily reactions while inking sensitive areas.</p><p>Even so, it is seriously testing Xiao Zhan’s self-control to lean his head over Yibo’s groin and not <em>have thoughts.</em>  His eyes linger over the pale and smooth skin here, dotted with a few tiny moles.  Xiao Zhan catalogs them in his mind, wonders who else has been close enough to look at them like this.</p><p>He blinks his want away and clears his throat.  “I think we should orient the dragon this way,” Xiao Zhan tells Yibo as he traces a finger along the line of his hip, “with the head here, and avoid tattooing the skin of the groin as much as we can.”  </p><p>With his fingers, he traces a line from just below Yibo’s inguinal crease -- that gorgeous ridge cutting a V down from the top of a man’s hips down to the top of his thighs.  Not all men, of course, but Yibo’s body is lean and muscled and so the line is there, right under Xiao Zhan’s fingers, cutting an inviting trail down, down, down, until it disappears under the blanket.  Xiao Zhan finds himself fighting the urge to dive in and run his tongue along it.</p><p>Xiao Zhan sweeps fingers along Yibo’s skin again -- solely to indicate where the tattoo should go, of course -- and he feels Yibo’s body shiver under his touch, hears him suck in a breath.  His senses sharpen to a fine point and he can feel his willpower teetering precariously.</p><p>He steadies his own breath and flicks his eyes up to Yibo, knowing that if their eyes meet, his resolve to be professional will crumble into dust.  To his relief, Yibo is stubbornly staring at the ceiling like it is the most interesting thing he has ever laid eyes on.  Xiao Zhan shakes his own head to clear it.  </p><p>
  <em>He’s a client, he’s a client, he’s a client.  Be professional.</em>
</p><p>He hears himself tell Yibo that he shouldn’t wear underwear for the next few days.</p><p>
  <em>Shit.  That visual did not help.</em>
</p><p>He’s relieved when Yibo changes the subject, and asks about his phoenix tattoo.  <em>Why a phoenix?</em>  Xiao Zhan stalls for a few moments, wondering how much to say, and settles on a standard, colorless explanation about getting up again after being knocked down.</p><p>“Who knocked you down, Zhan-ge?” Yibo demands.  “I would have words with them.”  His tone is playful, but Xiao Zhan catches a flash of indignance in his eyes.</p><p>Warmth floods his chest even as he feels the walls going up.  For a moment, he thinks about telling Yibo the whole story.  There’s something sturdy and reassuring and safe about Yibo and they have hours ahead of them, but--   </p><p><em>Get a grip,</em> he scolds himself.  <em>What do you really know about him?</em>  He bites back the impulse to share, and instead quirks his eyebrow at Yibo, smooths his expression out into what he hopes is a neutral expression, and says nothing.</p><p>He knows it’s hypocritical to hold it against Yibo, the fact that there’s so much he doesn’t know about him.  Yes, he can tell Yibo is holding something back, but so is Xiao Zhan.  It’s a vicious cycle, and maybe that’s why Xiao Zhan feels drawn to the idea there’s a mystical connection between their phoenix and dragon tattoos.  If it’s fate, it will all just work its way out, he tells himself.</p><p>Or he could be an adult and just ask Yibo anything he wants to know -- the man is right here, after all. </p><p>But when Yibo reveals he’s a dancer, Xiao Zhan feels a puzzle piece snap into place, and then another.  Hip hop?  Street dance?  He tries to push away his growing unease, and insists to himself that he’s someone’s backup dancer, or maybe he’s got his own little studio where he teaches…</p><p>Yibo keeps talking, though, and excitedly tells Xiao Zhan that he loves to sing, and Xiao Zhan can feel his stomach clench with the nagging fear that Yibo isn’t just some pretty boy he’ll ask out when the tattoo is finished.  He’s something else entirely, something he’s sure he doesn’t want.  Shouldn’t want.</p><p>Yibo has no idea of any of this, of the thoughts running wild in Xiao Zhan's mind, and instead asks him to <em>sing,</em> of all things.  <em>Sing?</em>  Xiao Zhan hasn’t done that for anyone else since…</p><p>“Please, Zhan-ge?  Sing for me?  I’m in such - such pain right now.  It would make me feel s-so much better.”  The look he gives Xiao Zhan is so pitiable, he can’t help but want to do what he asks.  <em>He's good at this,</em> he thinks.  Yibo seems like he’s practically vibrating with pain, and Xiao Zhan doesn’t want to see him like this, so he gives in and sings <em>Kepler</em> for him.  </p><p>It takes him a bit to warm to the task of singing for someone else, but before he’s finished the first verse, he feels lighter, like he’s soaring as high as the notes he’s singing, savoring the way it feels to have music flowing through him again.  He’s missed this in a way he didn’t realize.  </p><p>When the last note has faded away, Yibo is so effusive in his praise, so in awe, that Xiao Zhan feels his heart swelling, beating out a happy rhythm.  And for a moment Xiao Zhan lets himself imagine that things don’t need to be so complicated, that maybe it’s enough that he likes the way he feels when he's with Yibo.</p><p>Yibo’s laying it on thick, telling him he’s even better than Stefanie, which makes Xiao Zhan blush and want to hide.  Yibo looks delighted that he’s embarrassing Xiao Zhan, and just when Xiao Zhan thinks he can’t take any more praise, Yibo exclaims with a triumphant grin, “Zhan-ge is so devastatingly handsome and sings so beautifully, he could be an <em>idol!</em>”  </p><p>Xiao Zhan's breath stops in his chest.  These words trigger something in Xiao Zhan, stilling the easy flow that had been sweeping him along to Yibo.  </p><p>
  <em>The pain is still there, after all this time.</em>
</p><p>A flood of memories wash over him like a tidal wave, feelings he's pushed away for too long.  Anger flares in him as he tries to bury them again, but the bitter emotions rise to the surface and spill over before he can stop them.</p><p>“Why would I want to be an idol?” he snaps.</p><p>He feels Yibo’s body startle under his hands and hears a surprised, dismayed gasp.  Yibo doesn’t say anything more and the room falls painfully quiet.</p><p>Xiao Zhan can’t bring himself to look at Yibo’s face, doesn’t want to see the look of hurt he’s sure he’s put on it, so he dips his head down and focuses on putting the finishing touches to the first phase of the dragon tattoo.</p><p>He thinks about apologizing for his rude outburst.  Yibo had been so happy that Xiao Zhan had sung for him, and now he’s made him feel like shit.  If he were just a client -- <em>of course he’s just a client… what else would he be??</em> -- he would apologize right now.  Or is it the other way around?  If Yibo were just a client, Xiao Zhan wouldn’t be feeling like he just kicked a puppy.</p><p>He wipes down the tattoo and dresses it in silence.  <em>Like a fucking coward,</em> Xiao Zhan thinks.</p><p>When he’s done, he tells Yibo quietly, “I - I’ll see you out front,” and slips out of the room.</p><p><em>It’s not his fault,</em> Xiao Zhan insists to himself as he waits in the reception area.  Guilt pools in his stomach as he thinks about how he’d snapped at Yibo; he can barely stand it when Yibo finally trudges out, looking unhappy and unsure.  He can’t let him keep thinking he’d done something wrong, he decides.</p><p>“Yibo, I--” he starts, at the same time Yibo says, “Zhan-ge--” and they stare at each other a moment before laughing -- comfortably, Xiao Zhan wants to believe.  The tension that had hung like a curtain between them eases, and he lets himself relax.  It’ll be fine after all, he thinks.  Yibo will leave, and they’ll pick everything up again in a couple of weeks, and this awkwardness will be forgotten.  <em>It will be fine.</em></p><p>Yibo looks up at him with a shy smile, and opens his mouth as if he has something to say, but no words come.</p><p>Xiao Zhan huffs a fond laugh over Yibo’s sudden shyness.  “Just… let me know when you’re back and we can schedule the next appointment,” he says to Yibo, light and casual.  <em>See, normal client interaction.  I can do this.</em></p><p>Yibo offers a small smile and nods, then turns to go.</p><p>Xiao Zhan follows him to the door so he can lock up after him.  <em>Just a few more steps,</em> he repeats in his head.  <em>Keep it together for a few more steps.</em></p><p>Yibo’s hand is on the door when he whirls around and they are suddenly chest-to-chest, faces just inches apart.  Xiao Zhan startles and sucks in a breath.  Yibo seems frozen in place, his eyes wide with surprise, and Xiao Zhan finds he can’t look away from them.</p><p>He catches a tiny flicker in those eyes, like they're searching his for an answer to a question he hasn't asked aloud.  Xiao Zhan lets his gaze trail to Yibo’s lips.  They look soft, pink, and inviting.  <em>He’s so beautiful.</em></p><p>Yibo’s lips part, slow and trembling like a tender flower bud unfurling, and Xiao Zhan hears Yibo's voice, low and breathy in a way that lights him up inside.  “Zhan-ge, I - I’m--”</p><p>Xiao Zhan has no idea what Yibo was about to say because all at once, their lips meet.  Not in a shy first kiss, but one that’s unruly and messy, as if they are tumbling down a hill they’d spent weeks climbing.  The wet slide of Yibo’s mouth on his makes him dizzy and he feels like he's falling, falling, but then Yibo catches him with strong arms wound around him.  Xiao Zhan holds on, sliding his fingers through Yibo’s hair and cupping his face in his hands to draw him closer still.</p><p>He had tried so hard to behave during those long hours of inking Yibo’s skin, to try to see him as just another “human canvas” to decorate, to ignore what it felt like to touch his skin, to hear the teasing rumble of his voice.  Now, Xiao Zhan is making up for lost time, his hands running down the firm planes of Yibo’s back, around his waist, pulling him in and bending him backwards as he surges into their kiss. </p><p>Yibo is gasping in his arms, whisper-groaning against his lips, <em>Zhan-ge Zhan-ge,</em> and Xiao Zhan feels strong hands drifting lower, gripping his ass, holding him firm as Yibo grinds his hips into his--</p><p>Yibo’s body suddenly tenses as he sucks in a sharp breath.  For a moment Xiao Zhan thinks it might be time to take this into the private room in back, when a thought cuts through the haze in his head: <em>oh shit, the tattoo.</em></p><p>Quickly, Xiao Zhan lets go of Yibo, who stumbles back, glassy-eyed and breathless.</p><p>“Shit,” Xiao Zhan mutters, suddenly aware of his surroundings again.  <em>Fuck, what are we doing?</em>  “I’m sorry. I forgot--”</p><p>Yibo shakes his head.  “No, that was me--”  and leans in for another kiss, but Xiao Zhan takes a breath and remembers that he’s still at work, Yibo’s still a client, and... <em>I can’t do this.</em>  He lays his hands on Yibo’s shoulders and runs his palms down his chest, gently pushing him back.  </p><p>“You - you’ve gotta go, don’t you,” Xiao Zhan says, more as a reminder than a question, although a part of him wants Yibo to tell him he’s mistaken.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Work?” Xiao Zhan asks, tentatively, wondering if perhaps there’s more to tonight’s story after all.  “Isn’t that why - why you couldn’t stay for a longer session?”</p><p>“O-Oh,” Yibo nods, remembering.  “Yeah, right.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan looks at Yibo’s ruffled hair and his wet, just-kissed lips, and feels his heart thump.  <em>Maybe not tonight, but--</em></p><p>His thoughts are interrupted by the loud buzz of his phone on the counter.  “I’m sorry--” he picks up the phone to check to see who is calling.  <em>Oh -- it’s Ling-ge.</em>  He flicks his eyes to Yibo a little guiltily.  “One moment?”</p><p>“Yeah, sure,” Yibo says, distracted.</p><p>It’s not a video call -- Ru Ling has been visiting shrines in the mountains near his ancestral home in Taiwan and the signals aren’t always great -- but Xiao Zhan straightens up anyway when he picks up the phone again.   </p><p>“Ling-ge -- hi,” he chirps, his voice cracking a bit.  He clears his throat, wrestling back the ludicrous fear that he sounds like someone who was just making out on the job.  “Can you hold the line for a second?  I’m just seeing a client out.”</p><p>“No problem, Zhanzhan.  Take your time.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan mutes the call and turns back to Yibo, who is fidgeting on his feet and looking uncomfortable.  <em>Is he feeling guilty too?</em>  “I’m - I’m so sorry, Yibo, I really have to take this call.  Ling-ge is off in the mountains today and I don’t know when I’ll get to talk to him otherwise.  But… you’ve got--?”</p><p>Yibo nods.  “Yeah.  Yeah.  I have to go anyway,” he hurries to say.  “But I’ll - I’ll be back in a week and a half or so?  So -- I’ll message you later to set something up?”  </p><p><em>Ah yes.  The tattoo.  Still a client.</em>  “Sounds good,” Xiao Zhan hears himself say.</p><p>Yibo looks expectantly up at him, and Xiao Zhan hesitates, thinking of Ru Ling waiting on the line for him, about how he <em>really should not be doing this,</em> but Yibo wraps his palm around the nape of his neck and pulls him in for a soft, sweet kiss.</p><p>When he draws back, Yibo murmurs, “I’ll - I'll be back soon.  Wait for me?”</p><p>Xiao Zhan isn’t sure what he can promise, so he gives Yibo a fond smile and urges, “Go on, you’ll be late.”</p><p>After the door has closed behind Yibo, Xiao Zhan sighs and picks up his phone again.</p><p>“Ling-ge.  Sorry, had a session that ran a little late.”</p><p>“Ah,” comes the voice on the other line.  “Who was it?”</p><p>“Oh, <em>ummm,</em>” Xiao Zhan stammers.  “He came in with your client -- <em>ahh</em> -- Jackson Wang.  A couple of months ago.”</p><p>“Ahhh, Jackson!  Great guy.  So talented.  So who’s the friend he brought in?”</p><p><em>Jackson is a talented guy.</em>  Xiao Zhan feels inexplicably nervous saying Yibo’s name now.  “<em>Ummm...</em> His name is Wang Yibo.”</p><p>“Wang Yibo!” Ru Ling exclaims.  “Ah, that makes sense.”</p><p>A cold sense of foreboding starts to crawl up Xiao Zhan’s spine as Ru Ling goes on.</p><p>“They’re co-captains on <em>Street Dance of China,</em> you know.  Right now.  Yibo is China’s new “It Boy” -- quite the phenomenon.  He’s not only competing on <em>Street Dance,</em> he’s also racing -- motorcycles! -- later this fall… idol, model, rapper, actor, host…”</p><p>Ru Ling goes on, but Xiao Zhan can barely absorb what he’s saying anymore.  He can feel his heart rattling like a bird in his chest; the sudden ringing in his ears is painfully loud.  Xiao Zhan brings his fingers to his lips and he thinks about the boy who had been in his arms just minutes ago, breathless and murmuring his name.  As Ru Ling talks, though, different images of Yibo take shape and whirl in his mind.  </p><p>Xiao Zhan slumps down into a chair and holds his head in his hands.</p><p>
  <em>Wang Yibo… who are you?</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Screaming and crying in comments is encouraged.  😘</p><p>Thanks as always to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireflavoredwhiskey/pseuds/fireflavoredwhiskey">Elle</a> for being an amazing beta for this work and for screaming encouragements from the other side of the world!  ❤️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Xiao Zhan was fine with not dealing with his past... until Wang Yibo bulldozed his way into his life.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“WANG YIBO!?” Lulu is shrieking and pelting Xiao Zhan over the head with cushions.  “Wang Yibo!?  You made out with <em>Wang Yibo?</em>”</p><p>“Lulu... no... please,” Xiao Zhan moans from his place on the couch, crumpled in a depressed heap.</p><p>Lulu ignores him, still trying to process what Xiao Zhan has told her.  “Why didn’t you tell me that the guy who’s been after you all this time was Wang Yibo?”</p><p>“I didn’t know who he was!” he protests, holding his arms over his head to shield himself from Lulu’s blows.  </p><p>“<em>How</em> could you not know?” Lulu yells.  “His face is EVERYWHERE these days!”</p><p>“Maybe I didn’t <em>want</em> to know, okay?” he yells back.  “And this is exactly why!”</p><p>Lulu goes silent, and then she sighs, shoulders slumping.  “I'm sorry, Zhanzhan.”  She drops the cushions on the floor and collapses onto the couch next to him.  “Wang fucking Yibo,” she murmurs after a moment, staring off into the distance.  “Is - is he a good kisser?”</p><p>“Focus, Lulu, focus,” he groans into the seat cushions, arms still draped over his head like he's expecting the ceiling to collapse in on him.</p><p>“I’m sorry!  It’s just… this is a lot to take in.”</p><p>“I know, I know,” he laments.  “I - I really fucked up.”</p><p>Lulu whirls on him, voice sharp.  “What do you mean, you fucked up?”</p><p>He sits up, brushing his hair from his eyes, and takes a deep centering breath.  “Just that.  I fucked up.”  He puffs his cheeks out and then lets it all out in a loud exhale.  “I can’t do this.  I mean, first off, he’s a client-- <em>ai!</em> --” he throws a finger in the air to silence Lulu, who closes her mouth and pouts.  “I know you don’t think that should matter, but… it just does, okay?  I - I owe a lot to Ru Ling and I don’t want to let him down--”</p><p>“Are you <em>serious</em> about this?” Lulu demands.  “You would walk away from <em>Wang Yibo</em> just because he’s a client?  Are you crazy?”</p><p>“It’s more than that!” he insists, throwing his head back to stare at the ceiling.  “God, I knew that this was going to blow up in my face.  So many of Ru Ling’s clients are famous… I mean, he came in with Jackson Wang, and--”</p><p>“<em>JACKSON WANG?</em>” Lulu yells at Xiao Zhan.  “You met <em>Jackson Wang</em> and didn’t tell me?”</p><p>He glares at her.  “Ah, yes… okay,” she mumbles.  “Focusing.  On you.  And your feelings.”  She clears her throat and waves a hand at him.  “Go on.  The famous clients you don’t introduce me to...?”</p><p>He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and makes a long, frustrated sound.  “Look, I knew, Lulu.  I mean, I didn’t <em>know,</em> but at some level I knew he wasn’t just some <em>normal</em> cute guy, and that he was someone… <em>important,</em> and so…” he trails off with a pained expression.</p><p>“<em>Aiyaa,</em> Zhanzhan,” Lulu murmurs.  “You need to--”</p><p>“Yeah, but he wasn't exactly truthful with me, okay?”  He runs his hands over his face and groans. “He <em>knew</em> I didn’t know he was an idol and didn’t say any--”</p><p>“Wait,” Lulu interrupts, “how do you know that?  If I'm Wang Yibo, I would expect everyone to know who I am!”</p><p>He thinks for a second and laughs mirthlessly.  “Well, that's probably why he was so confused when I said I didn't know who Jackson was--”</p><p>The sound Lulu makes in response is shrill and alarming.  “What??  You didn't know who <em>Jackson</em> was?  What is wrong with y-- yeah okay… sorry,” she mumbles.</p><p>“And anyway,” he says with a roll of his eyes, “Yibo's… not like that.  He wasn't all snobby, never dropped names or anything like that…” He’s lost for a moment as he thinks about the open and guileless way Yibo often looked at him, and then shakes it off as he remembers...</p><p>“Turns out he was hiding so many things from me,” he says bitterly.  “So either he wanted to conceal who he was for some reason, or - or it didn’t matter to him if I knew or not because - because <em>I</em> don’t matter, and... <em>ahhh,</em> I should have stayed away…  Now I know.”</p><p>It was on the train home, after Ru Ling dropped the bombshell on him, that Xiao Zhan first typed  <tt><span class="big"><b>Wang Yibo</b></span></tt> into Baidu and let himself look.  He’d avoided it for so long, but after what Ru Ling had told him, he’d needed to see for himself.  His heart had stopped in his chest as he scanned over the headlines.  Mixed in with news articles about his dramas and fashion shoots and his many, many endorsements, Xiao Zhan found plenty of tabloid reports of his chaotic love life:</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <tt>
    <em><b><span class="big">Idol Wang Yibo Romantically Linked With Heiress</span></b></em>
  </tt>
</p>
<h5>
  <span class="big">Wang Yibo Photographed With Mystery Woman at Hengdian Hotel</span>
</h5><p>
  <tt><span class="big">Engaged?  Wang Yibo Seen Wearing Ring After Secret Vacation Getaway With Co-Star</span></tt>
</p><p>
  <span class="big">Model Spills Details of Steamy Backstage Tryst With Wang Yibo</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>Each link led to another, and another, each story more salacious and breathless, illustrated with photos of Yibo with a parade of beautiful starlets and models and singers.  Some of them were obvious edits; Xiao Zhan’s designer eye easily picked out where the lighting was off, or the way the contour of Yibo’s already-sharp jawline was too distinct where it touched the other person.  Other photos were inconclusive or blurry.  It didn’t matter: they all made his insides clench.</p><p>At home, he can’t stop looking.  It’s not at all difficult to find photos of Yibo in suggestive poses with other dancers, clips and gifs of him baring washboard abs and inviting others to run their hands over them, videos of him pulling people in for kisses (probably staged, but still).  </p><p>In one particular picture, Yibo is posing with a pretty girl -- the caption gives her name as Cheng Xiao -- and they’re both flashing finger hearts at the camera.  It’s not the only picture of the two of them together -- there are pictures of them staring heatedly at each other while dancing, or smiling together at red carpet events, and suddenly it all makes sense.  </p><p>
  <em>Ahhh, the heart in his tattoo.  It’s for her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’m a damn fool.</em>
</p><p>Xiao Zhan tosses his phone to Lulu.  “I told you he was just playing.”</p><p>She scrolls through the images and links, her eyes flickering as she takes it all in.  “A-Zhan.  You know that most of this isn’t true.  It’s probably all just gossip made up to create drama and generate clicks.  And the photos, you know that it’s part of what it means to be an idol, an act--”</p><p>“And that’s the problem, Lulu!” he exclaims.  “I don’t know what’s real and what’s fake about him.  There’s <em>so much</em> gossip about various affairs he’s having that some of it’s bound to be true, right?  Like, <em>of course</em> he could have any of these people--”</p><p>“Zhanzhan--”</p><p>“--or we’re <em>meant</em> to believe in all the skinship -- the kissing and groping and flirting between him and these other idols because it’s part of the fantasy--”</p><p>“Zhan--”</p><p>“--because that’s his <em>job,</em> to make you think he’s available and you could have him when you really can’t because he’s just <em>fucking</em> with you--”</p><p>“A-Zhan!” Lulu shouts in frustration, startling him into silence.  She exhales heavily, her eyes wide and pleading as she takes his face in her hands.  “A-Zhan, why don’t you just <em>talk</em> to him?  Just… ask him,” she says gently.</p><p>Xiao Zhan looks back with a tired gaze.  “What for?” he asks.  “He’s not my - my… anything.” </p><p>“But he could be!” Lulu insists.  “Go talk to him!”</p><p>He shakes his head out of her grasp and barks out a bitter laugh.  “Why?  What would I say?  Oh, hey famous idol, I’m just your tattoo artist, but why didn’t you tell me who you were?”  His tongue feels thick in his mouth and he's surprised at how hurt he feels that Yibo didn't tell him himself.</p><p>“And can you straighten out all these rumors for me?  Because I… I might be… kind of into you… like everyone else in China.”  He snorts derisively, but he can feel the burn of hot tears rising.  He blinks them back.  “Yeah, that would go over well.”</p><p>Lulu tilts her head and raises a fondly exasperated eyebrow at him, but her voice is soft.  “Come on.  You know you were never <em>just</em> his tattoo artist, Zhanzhan…”</p><p>“I <em>don’t</em> know that,” he snaps, more sharply than he meant.  He pulls in a shuddering breath.  “I don’t know <em>anything,</em> Lulu.  Celebrities like Yibo are paid to be whatever you want them to be.  There’s no reason for me to think that any of it was real.”</p><p>“Really?  Were there cameras at <em>Red Wolf?</em>  That kiss tonight had to mean <em>something.</em>  There wasn’t anyone there but the two of you,” she says gently.  “Why would anything that happened there have been an act?”</p><p>Xiao Zhan buries his face in his hands and doesn’t respond.</p><p>“You really liked him,” she says, more as an observation than a question.  He feels the pity in her voice and hates it, hates that this is where he is.</p><p>He sets his jaw and looks away.  “It doesn't matter.  Not anymore.”</p><p>“A-Zhan…”</p><p>“I just got carried away.  I shouldn’t have.  It was unprofessional.  And you know...” he starts, then takes a deep breath.  His words start tumbling out in a rush, like he's been rehearsing them for weeks.  “I’m doing him a favor.  I’m da-damaged goods anyway.  He doesn’t need me m-mucking up his career.  Can you imagine what a catastrophe it would have been if he’d been caught with me?  It's the last thing I’d want to have to live through again, to put him through--”</p><p>“Zhanzhan--”</p><p>He holds up a weary hand, and exhaustion settles on him all at once, like the revelations of the past couple of hours have leached the life out of him.  “I can’t talk about this anymore, Lulu.  Not right now, anyway.  I’m sorry...”  He picks himself up off the couch and retreats down the hall before she can stop him.  </p><p>Xiao Zhan shuts the door to his room behind him, throws himself down on the bed, and buries his face in his pillow.  The memories rise up all at once and he can’t hold them back anymore.</p><p> </p><p>⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He’s 23 again, slightly tipsy at a dark and noisy club, doing the karaoke thing with Lulu and some friends from work.  Light glints off the jumble of bottles and glasses on the table in front of him and the air is thick with that sickly sweet smell of spilled alcohol.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He’s slumped in the booth alone, stifling a giggle; the others are on stage, busy mangling a song so badly that he can’t name it anymore (courtesy of those empty bottles and glasses).  His fingers absently worry the edges of a business card that some guy gave him after his last song -- “you really have such a beautiful voice,” he’d said -- which he assumes is just a clumsy pick up line until he takes a closer look at the card.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>It plants an idea in his head that is hard to shake.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The next morning, and for several more mornings after that, the business card sits on his bedside table, refusing to be forgotten, until one day Xiao Zhan calls the number on it.  It’s not that he doesn’t care for his day job as a designer -- he’s always loved to draw and paint and to make beautiful things -- but he also loves to perform.  If a scout thinks he has what it takes to make it as an idol, who is he to argue?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I know it’s crazy and irresponsible,” he admits to Lulu over dinner, “but I think I have to try.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“An idol search competition… a reality show?” she asks, a little awed.  “You’d be great, but---”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She doesn’t have to finish that sentence.  Xiao Zhan knows it’s risky, setting aside the life he’s living to chase one he probably has no business wanting.  But he also knows that if he doesn’t grab this chance, that “what if” life will hang over everything he does, forever, like some ideal lover to which no one else could ever compare.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He has to do it, or he might end up resenting the rest of his life.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Once he’s decided, and quits the job he’s had for all of a year, he can barely contain the nervous excitement that vibrates through him.  It feels like a new beginning, a great adventure.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Meeting the rest of the contestants at the boot camp for the competition is intimidating.  Most of them are a lot younger than he is.  Some are just 16 -- and even though they’re only kids to him, they’ve already spent their childhoods training for an opportunity like this.  The oldest ones are still in uni, studying the performing arts, all young and talented.  No one else is an office guy making a last run at a youthful fantasy.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>It’s stupid and reckless, what he’s doing, so when he fills out all the paperwork and signs the releases, he draws a thin, protective curtain around himself.  A stage name.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hi, I’m Sean Xiao,” he says as he steps up to the mic on stage.  He flashes a broad smile at the people in the audience to hide his nerves.  With the glare of the stage lights in his eyes, he can't make out their faces (he’s horribly nearsighted anyway), but he knows that he’s being appraised by the show producers, coaches, and the other competitors.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I, uhhh, love to sing,” he says simply.  “I always have.  And I want to make a difference, to be able to inspire people to be their best selves.  If I’m 'China’s Next Idol,'” he goes on, working in the show’s title like he’s supposed to, “I hope I can use my voice as an idol to spread positivity.  Thank you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He tries to keep these lofty goals in mind as idol training gets underway.  It is and isn’t what he expected.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He’s styled to within an inch of his life, put on a strict diet, coached on how to stand, walk, and talk.  How to make every glance into an invitation, every smile into a promise.  It’s not that he didn’t know before all of this how important the image would be -- that idols are in the business of selling pretty illusions -- but it’s somehow different when he’s the one being shoved into the mold.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Countless hours over too many days are spent on honing just the right look (so much time spent in makeup, sweating under the lights while holding unnatural poses, swapping in and out of outfits) -- it’s far more than he ever anticipated.  He’s dismayed to find that actual talent seems to be a secondary concern -- although maybe it really shouldn’t have been a surprise.  There’s always auto-tuning, after all.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Some days he questions why he was even scouted.  Mr. Chang, the head of the company sponsoring the competition, makes it clear he doesn’t like his image.  After one of the first dress rehearsals, he tears into him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Sean,” he snipes, not even bothering to put a polite gloss on his feedback, “stop being so warm, you smile too much.  It's... annoying,” he finishes with a vague sneer.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Xiao Zhan can’t help but smile more, out of sheer mortification.  The other competitors are frozen in place around him, and he wonders what they must be thinking.  Are they horrified?  Relieved not to be him?  Happy that a competitor is being knocked back?  He feels the sweat sliding down his face.  It’s hot under the stage lights, but he’s also feeling the heat of humiliation.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Mr. Chang rolls his eyes at the smile plastered on his face.  “Oh my god.  You’re just too sunny.  That’s not an idol look.  It’s not sexy.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>It’s an ill-fitting suit, trying to be the kind of idol the company seems to want, but he keeps trying to beat the expectations, working himself to the breaking point in the rehearsal room.  If he can just make it far enough in the competition to get on stage and show them what he can do, he feels sure it will all work out.  He still has faith in his voice -- it got him here in the first place, after all.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Ugh.  Sean.  Boring,” Mr. Chang barks at him after he sings a solo.  “Your voice is just… boring,” he complains.  “That’s all,” he adds dismissively.  Xiao Zhan wants to ask him for details -- was it the phrasing he chose?  Does he want him to work in more runs?  Maybe he was too quiet?  Perhaps the mic wasn't working?  But he can't get the questions past the lump in his throat.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The rest of the competitors are looking at him furtively, leaning subtly away like they're scared that his failure is contagious, and anxiety thrums through his body.  His voice was the one thing he thought he could be sure of, and now this executive is telling him it’s barely worth commenting on.  He's always been a driven person, not one for giving up on things he wants -- but for the first time, he starts to think that maybe he’s made a terrible mistake, risking everything he’d had to come here.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He’s alone in the dorms, feeling more than a little sorry for himself, when Xie Mingyue, another contestant, joins him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Who knew it would take this much effort to be effortlessly cool?” Mingyue jokes ruefully as he drops down onto one of the beds and throws a dramatic arm over his face.  “I thought I had some talent until I came here!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Xiao Zhan smiles weakly in return.  “I know, right?”  Relief floods through him, warm and welcome.  “Ah, I thought I was the only one who felt this way!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Nah,” Mingyue says conspiratorially, a genuine grin splitting his handsome face as he sits up to face Xiao Zhan.  “It’s just that no one wants to admit it aloud because it’s a competition!”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Xiao Zhan almost cries in gratitude that someone is finally commiserating with him; until then, he’d been feeling so alone, like he was the only one missing the mark.  But as Mingyue shares his own worries, it starts to feel as if he’s a kindred spirit, open and generous, and it’s not long before he becomes Xiao Zhan’s closest friend in the competition.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Xiao Zhan is thankful for his reassuring company during rehearsals, meals, and the pity parties after particularly brutal evaluation sessions.  Mingyue’s only 18, but he’s been through the meat grinder of idol training before, and is there to help Xiao Zhan navigate the unfamiliar landscape of the entertainment industry.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>When the competition starts to air on TV, the stress multiplies.  Xiao Zhan watches the first episode, and he can tell that the footage shot in the dorms and rehearsal rooms, at times when the contestants thought they could truly relax, is being cut up and repackaged for maximum drama.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You have to be careful, Sean,” Mingyue warns him.  “Never let your guard down in the dorms because the cameras are everywhere.  But if you need to vent, I’m always here for you,” he says, and Xiao Zhan feels calmed by the sincere look in his eyes.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Online, fans take sides in the manufactured beefs, and soon there’s just as much drama on social media as there is on the air -- and none of it bears much resemblance to what’s actually happening.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It builds, until one afternoon, for a change, Mingyue comes to Xiao Zhan for a shoulder to cry on.  He’d carelessly made what he thought was an innocent joke about another contestant’s weight, and when his apology wasn’t deemed heartfelt enough, the fans started turning against him, labeling him mean and ill-mannered.  It’s hard to be an idol when fans decide they don’t like you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I don’t want to get cut, Sean,” he sobs.  “Not again.  I just… can’t.  I don’t think I’ll get a third chance… I don’t know what to do...”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Xiao Zhan pats Mingyue’s back comfortingly, but hesitates to offer advice -- he’s probably the competitor with the least industry experience in the bunch, the most naive about how things work, but he thinks about how he might handle something like this in his office back home.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Don't give up, Mingyue!  Keep working seriously.  But maybe,” he suggests, “you can try to divert attention away from all this drama by doing something the fans will like -- show your sweet side, and give them something that they can talk about other than your supposed mistakes?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Mingyue’s eyes light up.  “What if I did sweet things for you?  If you showed that I made you happy, maybe that would help?  Do you think the fans would enjoy that?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Xiao Zhan nods, eager to help.  “Sure, I can help with that.  Anything for a friend.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>So Mingyue brings snacks and drinks to him in the rehearsal room, which Xiao Zhan accepts and then makes sure the camera catches his happy smile.  He’s glad he’s able to return the favor to someone who's been there for him so much, who has offered reassurance at a time when he’d never felt so vulnerable.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He’s less sure about how to react when Mingyue leans heavily into him when they’re sitting on the couch together, when he holds his hand, or slings an arm or leg casually across his thigh.  The camera is always there when Mingyue does this, so he finds it awkward to pull away.  But he doesn’t want to reciprocate, either, even though he knows it’s exactly the kind of skinship that fans expect to see from their idols.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He likes Mingyue, just not that way.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It doesn’t take long before fans begin to ship them.  “We have a CP, Sean-ge,” Mingyue announces triumphantly one day.  “It seems I’m finally forgiven -- the fans like me now because… well, because you like me, gege.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Mingyue beams at Xiao Zhan, and he tries to return the smile -- but inside he cringes.  It’s not as if Xiao Zhan doesn’t know all about shipping -- he’s been a Kpop fan for years.  But he hadn’t been ready to play this part -- didn’t want to, really....  Maybe he would feel less conflicted if it had been something that sprung naturally from their genuine friendship.  He knows, though, that Mingyue worked hard to make this CP happen -- and as much as Xiao Zhan wants to be a good friend, the feeling that he’s being manipulated sits leaden in his stomach.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He tries subtly avoiding Mingyue, but not only does the boy not take the hint, he starts to play it up even more for the cameras, making suggestive comments, giving Xiao Zhan more obvious looks.  He overhears the other contestants complaining because interest in their CP is starting to overshadow the rest of the competition.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Who does Sean think he is, anyway?  Just an ambitious upstart, trying to use fan drama to shortcut the kind of work we’ve had to do.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He knows he shouldn’t look, but in the Weibo supertopic that was created for their CP, he picks up on an anxious energy, with fans gushing over Mingyue’s transparent mooning, and worrying that Sean is being careless with Mingyue’s heart.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>At night, he can’t sleep, trying to figure out how to defuse the escalating situation.  And there’s no one he can talk to about this, not when Mingyue is at the heart of the problem.  He’s alone again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Xiao Zhan retreats into the work, immersing himself in the preparations for the performances, hoping that the way out of the trap he feels closing in on him is to distinguish himself with his voice (and do well enough with the dance routines).  He hopes it still counts for something, because he feels more isolated than ever.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Gege, you aren’t doing enough fanservice,” Mingyue scolds playfully back in the dorms.  “This CP could make us really popular if you’d just play your part.”  But this isn’t what Xiao Zhan came here to do.  He wants to be on stage, singing, not getting sucked into a fake romantic drama.  To his dismay, it is all the fans seem to care about now.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Mingyue…” he starts, unsure of what to say, but knowing he can’t let this go on, “I think it would be better for us both if we focus on the performances, and not get carried away with the fanservice stuff, ah?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It’s not fanservice if it’s real, gege,” Mingyue teases, and ruffles Xiao Zhan’s hair.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Xiao Zhan pulls away, annoyed.  “I mean it,” he snaps.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I do too,” Mingyue pouts, “don’t you like me, Sean?”  He looks up with wide eyes through his lashes, bites his lip, and holds the pose for a beat.  Xiao Zhan wants to roll his eyes.  He knows exactly what Mingyue’s doing because they’ve rehearsed it, like so many other looks and poses.  They’re all fake, engineered to get fans to scream, and it suddenly hits him how completely fucked up this whole experience has become.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He quit a job he liked, thinking he would get to sing before a national audience, and maybe, if he’s lucky, find fame as an idol.  Instead, he’s trapped in a make-believe relationship with someone he thought had been a friend and that he now can’t stand to be around.  He feels the anger rising, the heat on his face.  “Just… stop,” he grits out, trying for politely detached, but missing by a mile.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Mingyue reaches out for Xiao Zhan, but he jerks away and all Mingyue gets is a fistful of his shirt.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The boy looks at him, stunned for a moment.  Then he starts yelling.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You’re such an ass!  When you needed a friend, I was there for you, helping you with your choreo, giving you advice, listening to all your complaints, and this is how you treat me?”  He bites his lip and stammers, his eyes welling with tears.  “I - I really care about you, you know.  I like you, gege...”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Xiao Zhan startles at the sudden outburst and wonders if maybe he got it all wrong.  “Mingyue, I just--” he runs a hand through his hair, “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.  I mean, I like you too, but as a friend--”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Mingyue looks up at him with his big eyes, and Xiao Zhan feels like shit now, realizing too late that he’s handled this whole thing so poorly.  He’s the older one.  He should have been more careful.  He gives Mingyue a gentle look and says, as soothingly as he can, "Listen, I'm sorry--"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But then Mingyue starts to chuckle and his face morphs into one of pity.  “Oh my god, Sean.  Did you--?”  He leans in close and speaks quietly, but Xiao Zhan can hear a mocking edge to his voice.  “Did you really think that was what this was all about?  That I actually like you that way?”  He puts a hand over his mouth, but it doesn’t hide his smirk or the dark look in his eyes.  “Oh.  You really don’t know how anything works in this business, do you?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>An icy chill screams down Xiao Zhan’s back.  He feels the danger before he can name it.  “I - I’m sorry, what?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Mingyue’s face shifts again and he looks up at Xiao Zhan with a sad and lost look.  “Oh gege, I like you so much, how could you not see it?”  The yearning gaze lasts for just a second longer before it dissolves into a cruel mask.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Xiao Zhan blinks, his head spinning.  He can’t keep up.  Before he can speak or move, Mingyue’s face is pressed close, his lips right by his ear.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You’ll never be an idol until you can learn to play the part, Sean.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Mingyue pulls back and Xiao Zhan finds that he can’t read the expression on his face.  He can’t understand anything, actually.  His mouth is painfully dry as he swallows and tries to speak, to try to make sense of what is happening.  “Mingyue--”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I HATE YOU!” Mingyue shrieks theatrically, jumping away in an instant and pulling at his own hair and clothes as if possessed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I don't--” Xiao Zhan starts, confused, but then Mingyue is turning for the door, cursing, and Xiao Zhan goes after him, hoping he can stop him from making a scene in front of everyone.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He bursts through the door right behind Mingyue, hissing, “Would you just--”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Shit.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The cameras are waiting for them in the hallway.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘</p><p> </p><p>Xiao Zhan lies awake in bed, desperate for sleep, but unable to relax.  Even years later, the memories leave him shaking with anger.</p><p>He remembers the powerless feeling that gripped him that night -- the way he was almost deaf from the pounding of his own heart in his ears as he tried to explain to the show’s producers that nothing at all had happened.  </p><p>The things Mingyue had said to him were so bizarre that he knew no one would believe him even if he repeated them, and he knew there was little he could do to counter the story the video told, the two of them emerging from the dorm room all red-faced with disheveled hair and clothing.  Mingyue had even cried.</p><p>Especially in the context of Mingyue’s weeks-long televised campaign to create a narrative of a young, aspiring idol suffering heartbreak at the hands of an unfeeling older man, Xiao Zhan was fighting an uphill battle.</p><p>Somehow there was even audio of Mingyue yelling at Xiao Zhan that he hated him, as if they’d had some kind of lovers’ quarrel, and nausea washed through him as he realized that Mingyue must have told the cameraman to be ready for a show -- because isn’t that what idols do, after all?  Perform?</p><p>Afterwards, Xiao Zhan felt a perverse sense of relief when he was told he’d have to leave the competition.  The giddy promise of the experience had long since burned away by then, so he was ready for it to be over anyway.</p><p>But it didn’t mean he wasn’t angry.  At the injustice of it all, at the so-called friend who had betrayed him, yes, but also at himself for having been stupid enough to trust.</p><p>He might have been fine with leaving it there, just going home and picking up his life where he’d left it months before, but the humiliation of being ejected from the competition wasn’t enough for Mingyue’s fans.  They were far too invested in seeing Xiao Zhan play the role they’d written for him to stop now.  </p><p>Outraged at the way they felt he’d mistreated Mingyue, and pissed that they didn’t get the story they thought they were owed, they launched a harassment campaign against Xiao Zhan that followed him home, online, everywhere he went.  </p><p>The Weibo account he had set up for “Sean Xiao” was so overrun with hateful messages he just deleted it.  He got threatening emails.  He wasn’t sure how, but his mobile was leaked and the abuse got so bad he had to change his number.</p><p>On several occasions, he was recognized on the street, or in coffeeshops.  It amazed him that the hate for Sean was so great that people would yell at him to his face, as if he weren’t a person with feelings, but some <em>thing</em> that these people felt entitled to slap around.  “What kind of a monster are you to have treated Mingyue so shamefully?  You even dare to show your face in public?  We will never let you rest…”</p><p>His stage name offered little cover in the end; he’d had to go into hiding until the furor died down.  </p><p>It wasn’t lost on him that none of the other contestants -- Mingyue least of all -- ever reached out to him to see how he was doing.  And why would they?  They weren’t friends.  He’d thought he’d felt camaraderie, but it turned out that none of that was real.  Well, the fan anger was, and that was all the more reason why no one was standing up to defend him.</p><p>Just thinking about those miserable months still made him furious -- and unbearably sad.  So it was easier to lock all of the memories away in a box labeled <em>DO NOT TOUCH</em> than to look too hard at what he’d lost beyond the chance at fulfilling a dream.  </p><p>He had convinced himself that he was <em>fine</em> living that way -- at least until Yibo bulldozed his way into his life.</p><p>Just then, his room abruptly lights up in an eerie glow.  He picks up his phone.  Yibo is messaging him.  His finger hesitates over the screen for a moment before he swipes open their chat, and <em>ahhhh</em> the message is so Yibo -- a demand for attention, a direct challenge to Xiao Zhan’s determination to move on.</p><p>
  <em>i can’t stop thinking about that kiss<br/>
tell me you feel the same way</em>
</p><p>Xiao Zhan’s heart hammers in his chest when he sees these words, and all at once he feels his lips warm with the memory of that kiss.  Of course he felt something too, but so what?  </p><p>He thinks about the things he’s read about Yibo online.  There’s no way to know what’s real and what’s just playacting.  It’s the painful lesson he learned about what it means to be an idol, and what he’s been trying to avoid ever since.  He doesn’t want to be back in a place where rumors and drama and image matter more than anything else.</p><p>And even if Yibo were sincere, well… Yibo’s clearly got something to lose.  He doesn’t need Xiao Zhan’s past to haunt him too.</p><p>So he folds away his want for the man.</p><p><em>I’m sorry,</em> he messages Yibo.  <em>I'm sorry.</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He’ll get over it, if any of it was even real.  It’s better this way.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘</p><p> </p><p>Ru Ling had called for a reason that night.</p><p>He’d been in Taiwan all this time to sort out his family’s affairs following his father’s death.  It was during one of his meditative hikes through remote mountain villages that he had come to the conclusion that he wanted to spend more time with family -- and he would need Xiao Zhan’s help to rearrange his life.</p><p>“I need you to come to Taipei,” he’d informed Xiao Zhan.  “I want to open a branch of <em>Red Wolf</em> here, but more than that, I need you to take over the corporate design side of the business.  It’s been your baby, anyway.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan startled.  “Oh, I - I…”</p><p>“It’s time,” Ru Ling said.</p><p>After Xiao Zhan’s calamitous experience with idol life, he’d holed up with his parents in Chongqing, quietly taking on freelance design gigs, partly to replenish the savings he’d depleted after he’d quit his job, and partly to keep from going crazy while in seclusion.</p><p>Somehow, one of his projects caught the eye of Ru Ling, who had been looking for a designer to help expand his business.  Corporations had been clamoring to get a piece of the trendy tattoo aesthetic that he’d cultivated through his celebrity work, but he loved designing and inking tattoos too much to bother with it.  So he brought Xiao Zhan on as a designer.</p><p>The arrangement suited Xiao Zhan perfectly.  Ru Ling was gregarious and had an easy way with high-maintenance celebrity clients, so he remained the face of <em>Red Wolf</em> -- the famous tattoo artist to the stars -- while Xiao Zhan quietly did all the design work for the corporate clients.  </p><p>And stayed as far away from the celebrity clients as Ru Ling would allow.</p><p>Ru Ling also trained him in the art of tattooing.  Xiao Zhan found that he loved this work for the way that no two tattoos were ever the same -- every human canvas was different, everyone had a different story to tell.  He enjoyed the process of distilling a person’s ideas and wants into a meaningful image that they could enjoy for a lifetime.</p><p>Becoming a tattoo artist allowed him to rise up and take a new path, to remake himself.</p><p>
  <em>Like a phoenix.</em>
</p><p>Xiao Zhan likes his new not-idol image, with his long hair, the black clothing, his absolute disdain for the trappings of celebrity, even as his work put him in close proximity to the rich and famous.</p><p>He’s built a good life for himself.  It’s quiet, but full.  He had deleted his social media presence, stopped watching TV (except for K-dramas with Lulu, of course), and most certainly quit following any celebrity news.  </p><p>Being offline means he’s not getting distracted by the petty disagreements of the day, isn’t simply killing time scrolling and clicking.  His hands are busy creating things, not just posting about them.  He’s more creative and productive than ever.</p><p>But Ru Ling was adamant that he wanted Xiao Zhan to do more, to take on the high profile role that he had avoided for so long.  Ru Ling had asked before, wanting to give Xiao Zhan more exposure and credit for his design work, but Xiao Zhan had always demurred.  Seeing his designs out there had been gratifying on its own, he had argued, and he didn’t want the notoriety.  </p><p>Didn’t want to be found.</p><p>“It’s time,” Ru Ling had repeated when he heard the hesitation in Xiao Zhan’s voice.</p><p>When Xiao Zhan had launched into his familiar speech about how he was happy with the way things were, grateful to have the job he already had, Ru Ling cut in:  “I didn’t do it for you, you know.  I mean, I’m a good guy,” he laughed, “but bringing you in wasn’t an act of charity.”</p><p>“I know, but--”</p><p>“Don’t do that,” Ru Ling chided.  “You have <em>talent.</em>  I needed someone to help me bridge the gap between my artistic vision and what corporations might want.  Your background was perfect for that.  And now I need you to do more.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan had sighed in resignation.  He knew that he owed Ru Ling, that he couldn’t really deny this request, no matter how much he might like to continue to stay behind the scenes.  And really, how could he claim that he’s past it all if he won’t do what Ru Ling asks, won’t take the most natural next step in his career?</p><p>Ru Ling’s voice had been so gentle.  “I know you’ve been burned, but like I said, this isn’t a charity gig.  It's time for you to step out from my shadow, Zhanzhan.”</p><p>Maybe it really is time to move on, and not let his past hold him back.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh Zhanzhan, that’s amazing,” Lulu gushes when he tells her about Ru Ling’s plans.  “You really built that side of the business up… I’m so proud of you!”</p><p>She bumps his shoulder fondly, and then her smile fades into a pout.  “But… Taipei?” she whines.  “You’re - you’re not going to tell him, are you?” </p><p>Xiao Zhan huffs out a bitter laugh, even as he feels his throat constrict.  “Yibo?  What for?  What am I to him?”  He knows he’s doing the right thing, for both of them.  </p><p>
  <em>So why does this feel so bad?</em>
</p><p>Lulu raises a skeptical eyebrow at him.  “You can’t keep running, you know.”</p><p>“I’m not,” he insists.  “I… I just have work to do.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><em>Thank you so much</em> for reading and for all the great comments along the way -- truly, it's been amazing to know people have been reading and are as invested in the boys' eventual happiness as I am.</p><p>Please keep the comments and kudos coming -- they keep me going! ❤️</p><p>Huge bear hugs to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireflavoredwhiskey/pseuds/fireflavoredwhiskey">Elle</a> once again for beta reading this work and for keeping me company virtually while writing... and also to Pika for the sensitivity read... THANK YOU!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Yibo doesn’t know what to call what had been building between them, but whatever it was, he can’t let it go.  Xiao Zhan has left his mark on him in more ways than one.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Surprise!  I know that this was supposed to be the last chapter, but things got away from me.  Now you get <em>three</em> last chapters!  Thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoy it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yibo is toweling himself off after his shower when he sees it.  It hasn’t gotten any easier, even though this happens every day.  Dropping the towel, he traces a finger down the damp skin of his hip, following the unfinished line of the dragon tattooed there, and he thinks of Xiao Zhan.  If he closes his eyes, he can still feel the warmth of the man’s hands on his skin, can even see the way they bracket the dragon’s body -- his body.</p><p>He knows he could go to <em>Red Wolf </em>-- or any other tattoo parlor, really -- anytime he wants and have another artist finish the tattoo, but he can’t bring himself to do it.  It feels wrong somehow, like having someone take Xiao Zhan’s place in the middle of an intimate ritual between them.  Like letting another person erase him.</p><p>So the dragon tattoo remains half-done, a visual representation of Yibo’s rash decisions, his foolish hope, their truncated… something.  Yibo doesn’t know what to call what had been building between them, but whatever it was, he can’t let it go.  Xiao Zhan has left his mark on him in more ways than one.</p><p>It’s not so bad when he’s busy, when his mind is occupied with memorizing and delivering lines, or focused on nailing down complicated choreography for his fight scenes or dance routines.  Work is a welcome distraction, and he has a lot of it.</p><p>But in the itchy quiet between scenes, or when he’s feeling crushingly alone in his hotel room at night, he thinks about messaging Xiao Zhan.  Sometimes, in moments of weakness, he does more than just think about it and hits “send” on his little missives -- and hopes that Xiao Zhan finds it touching and not too pathetic or weird.</p>
<p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
    <span class="header">Zhan-ge</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>how r u</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>i heard kepler and thought of u</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>please say smthg</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>hey did u know that the worlds shortest flight is 57 seconds long</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>i miss u</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>zhan-ge r u there</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="greply"><span class="hide"><b>Yibo: </b></span>zhan-ge</span><br/>
</p>
</div>After over two months of this, Yibo isn’t even sure if Xiao Zhan is getting his messages.  For a while, it had felt oddly soothing to send a text out into the void, like a declaration of his faith that there had been something real there. But as the silence stretches on, just the sight of the one-sided conversation makes his chest ache.<p>He can’t bring himself to forget, though.  At night when he falls into bed after a long day, he thinks about Xiao Zhan.  The mischievous glint in his eyes when he would tease Yibo.  The way his whole face would light up when he smiled.  His casual, unselfconscious beauty -- something Yibo sees so little of, despite spending his days on various sets surrounded by people whose job it is to look beautiful.  But even they don’t compare.  </p><p>Other memories come unbidden, at the least convenient of times.  Yibo would be in his dressing room, his body suddenly alight with the sensation of being pressed against Xiao Zhan, strong arms holding him close.  In the middle of dance practice, he would stop to catch his breath and then feel the hot slide of Xiao Zhan’s mouth on his, the urgent sounds of their sighs mingled together and echoing in his ears. </p><p>It’s not like Yibo had never been kissed before -- he just had never been kissed <em>like that.</em>  And it meant something.  It had to.  Yibo isn’t a masochist.  He had felt Xiao Zhan’s desperate want in that kiss, deeply.  He remembers how much it physically <em>ached</em> to be devoured like that -- like Xiao Zhan had reached into Yibo’s chest, took a piece of his heart, and kept it.</p><p>Which had made it all the more bewildering when, only a few hours later, Yibo found himself staring at his phone in a stomach-churning panic as Xiao Zhan kept typing <em>I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry</em>… and then … <em>nothing.</em></p><p><br/>
</p><p>“Dude, you look terrible,” Jackson says, tossing a balled-up napkin at Yibo's face and snapping him out of his thoughts.</p><p>He bats it away and scowls.  “Thanks, man.  Just for that, I am taking all the cilantro,” he says petulantly, and dumps the entire plate of greens into his hot pot.</p><p>Jackson sighs.  “No trash talking?  Your team won <em>Street Dance,</em> and you’re not going to rub it in our faces?”</p><p>“Wouldn’t be sportsmanlike,” Yibo shrugs.</p><p>Jackson exchanges a glance with Yixing, sitting on the other side of the table, his face blurred by the columns of rising steam.</p><p>“So!” Yixing chirps, snagging a plate of Wagyu beef, “any new tats, Yibo?”</p><p>Yibo looks up in time to catch Jackson glaring grim-faced at Yixing, shaking his head almost imperceptibly to shut him up.</p><p>A flash of irritation shoots through Yibo at the idea that this thing he had with Xiao Zhan is now something his friends feel they need to tiptoe around -- even if it’s true that he really doesn’t want to talk about it.  </p><p>“What,” Yibo demands, shamefully aware of the prickly tone of his voice.  “What do you know about it?”</p><p>Jackson blinks at Yibo and is silent for a moment, as if he’s trying to read his mood.  “Here -- look,” he says, pulling his sleeve up to show Yibo the new tattoo on his arm, but Yibo looks right through it, unseeing.  “I, <em>uhhh,</em> finally met up with Ru Ling for my tat.   He told me… I - I know that he left to go to Taiwan,” he offers tentatively.  “But Yibo--”</p><p>“Yeah.  Taipei,” he says, emotionless in an unintentionally revealing way.</p><p>Jackson sighs, his eyes gentle.  “Hear me out, Yibo--”</p><p>“No need,” Yibo snaps, and empties a plate of gong cai into his pot.  The last thing he wants right now is to have to talk about his failed love life.  Not like he’s supposed to have one, anyway.</p><p> </p><p>After dinner, as they’re waiting for their drivers, Jackson approaches Yibo again.</p><p>“Listen--”</p><p>“Please,” Yibo nearly begs.  He can’t stand the way Jackson keeps looking at him, like he feels sorry for him.  He’s a <em>cool guy,</em> not someone to be pitied.  “I don’t want to talk about it.”</p><p>“I get it.  I do,” Jackson reassures him, holding his hands up as if trying to placate a wounded animal.  “No, this is something else.”</p><p>Yibo raises a skeptical eyebrow but waits for him to continue.</p><p>Jackson coughs, seemingly rattled by Yibo’s expectant, vaguely impatient stare.  “So… I know you’ve been thinking about doing some rebranding?  For your own studio--”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“I know a guy--”</p><p>Yibo fixes a baleful look on Jackson.  “Don’t.  The last time you introduced me to a guy...”</p><p>“Yibo, trust me on this one, okay?”  Jackson produces a business card from his jacket and holds it out for Yibo.  “He’s exactly what you’ve been looking for.”</p><p>Yibo takes the card and scans it, his eyes widening.  “What the f--”</p><p>“Go get him.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Yibo’s heart starts to race from the moment the elevator doors open and he hears the singing.  <em>That voice.</em>  It calls to him like a siren song, and he can only hope that’s where the comparison ends, and that he’s not just some hapless sailor about to be dashed against the rocks.  </p><p>From the doorway of the conference room, he sees him -- a tall, lean man setting out folders on a long table.  He’s an unmistakable figure clad from head to toe in black.  </p><p>The long sleeve shirt he's wearing is paired with a vest secured by buckles and straps that give it a vaguely S&amp;M vibe, all atop impossibly long legs in painted-on jeans tucked into chunky boots.  His long hair is caught up in that familiar messy ponytail, and Yibo’s eyes can’t help but to follow the escaped strands down the long, graceful arc of his neck.</p><p>It’s a distractingly hot look.</p><p>Yibo steps into the room, shuts the door quietly behind him, and clears his throat.  “Zhan-ge.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan falls silent and freezes in place where he’s leaning across the table.  He slowly straightens up and turns to face Yibo.  “You,” he says softly, his expression unreadable.  “You’re the mystery idol I’m meeting with today?”</p><p>The sight of Xiao Zhan’s beautiful face after all these months literally takes Yibo’s breath away.  He tries to smile, but it feels wobbly on his lips.  “Yeah.  Me.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan takes a step back from the table and opens his mouth.</p><p>“Don’t go,” Yibo rushes to say.  “Please.”  </p><p>Xiao Zhan looks amused, and Yibo’s chest aches at the sight.  He’s missed putting that look on his face.  “I’m not going anywhere.  It’s my board room, you know.”</p><p>Yibo takes a step closer.  “Zhan-ge--”</p><p>“Wait,” Xiao Zhan interrupts, his eyes flicking to the closed door, “the rest of your team--”</p><p>“--isn’t coming.  It’s - it’s just me.”  Yibo stuffs his hands into his pockets and shrugs a little sheepishly.</p><p>The humor goes out of Xiao Zhan’s face, and he tosses the folders in his arms to the table with a startlingly loud <em>thwack!</em>  “What the hell, Yibo?  Is this a joke to you?”</p><p>At this, something snaps inside Yibo and months of pent-up frustration breaks free.  “Oh, you’re gonna be the angry one?” Yibo fires back, his voice rising.  “You fucking ghosted me!  For months!  You didn’t respond to my messages, you didn’t even tell me you were back--”</p><p>“So you set up a fake meeting?” Xiao Zhan huffs in disbelief.  “Are you fucking kidding me here?”</p><p>“No, this is a real meeting!” Yibo shouts.  “I really do need someone to do my rebranding, but--”  He stops to take a breath and try to compose himself, because he can feel his face burning with long-simmering frustration.  “I want to know why.  Why you just left.  You - you owe me an explanation."</p><p>Xiao Zhan draws himself up to his full height.  In the combat boots he’s wearing, it’s a formidable look, and Yibo feels both intimidated and, if he’s honest, a little turned on.  “I <em>owe you</em>?”  He draws the words out slowly, his eyes narrowed, like he can’t comprehend the words Yibo is using.  “I owe you?” he repeats, more incredulous.  “What the fuck Yibo, you barely <em>know</em> me.  I was just your--”</p><p>“No, goddamn it, you weren’t!” Yibo roars back.  “You weren’t just the guy inking my tattoos.  It was never just that for me!  You -- <em>this</em> --” he says, pointing furiously between them, “that kiss… that didn’t mean anything to you at all?”</p><p>There’s no response, just a dumbstruck look on Xiao Zhan’s face.  In the midst of the awful silence stretching between them, Yibo hears his own words play back in his head -- a <em>confession,</em> for fuck’s sake -- and it hits him, the crushing realization that he <em>has</em> been alone in this.  </p><p>He’s been so used to people throwing themselves at him over the years, he finds he has no roadmap for what to do now.  It’s a foreign feeling to be rejected, to fail at getting something -- someone --  that he wants so badly, but this is his reality now.</p><p>Yibo rakes an anxious hand through his hair.  “<em>Fuck!</em> -- what am I even doing here,” he mutters under his breath, feeling the horrible, gnawing humiliation on his skin.  His eyes slide toward the door, his whole body thrumming with the need to escape.  </p><p>“I mean -- you basically told me to fuck off--” he mumbles, thinking back to their last text exchange.  </p><p>Xiao Zhan shakes his head, his voice suddenly quiet.  “Yibo, I never--”</p><p>“You told me to go find a new artist…”  Yibo groans, defeated.  His chest tightens as the memory of Xiao Zhan’s words replays in his mind.  “<em>Ugh.</em>  I was stupid to even come here…”</p><p><em>This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.</em>  </p><p>He feels the burn in his eyes and turns away, to leave before he makes a bigger fool of himself than he already has, but unexpectedly, Xiao Zhan catches a wrist and holds on.</p><p>“Yibo wait, don’t go,” he says softly, a note of desperation winding through his voice.  “I’m - I’m sorry.  Don’t go.  Please.”</p><p>The tenderness in Xiao Zhan’s voice, in the touch of his hand, the <em>sorry</em> -- it pushes Yibo over the edge, and he keeps his face turned away to hide the tears that spill onto his cheeks.  “Why, Zhan-ge?” he sniffs, his voice thick.  “I thought -- I thought when we - we -- I felt--”  He stops to take a deep breath.  “I thought that had meant something and then you - you never talked to me again.”</p><p>“It did,” Xiao Zhan admits, and gently turns Yibo to face him.  “It did mean something to me.”</p><p>“Then why--?”</p><p>Xiao Zhan heaves a sigh, and cups Yibo’s face in his hands, tenderly wiping the tears off his cheeks with gentle sweeps of his thumbs.  “Yeah, well… it was after you’d left that I found out that you’re this big idol… and then I saw all these photos of you with other people, kisses even… and I realized that I didn’t know you at all, so it couldn’t have meant what I had thought… and--”</p><p>Yibo looks back with a pained expression.  “I wanted to tell you that day -- I did.  I meant to.  But afterwards -- you didn’t give me a chance to explain.”</p><p>“It’s… complicated.”  Xiao Zhan murmurs.  He lets his hands drop and wrings them idly.  “It just felt like, if you were hiding something like that, then what else were you lying about?”</p><p>“I never lied about who I was!” Yibo almost yells back.  “I just… I just liked you treating me like a regular person, and I didn’t want that to change, so I didn’t know how to tell you that - that--”</p><p>“That you’re an idol,” Xiao Zhan finishes.  “Like, one of the most famous in the whole country.”</p><p>Yibo winces and looks down.  “And somehow you didn’t know.  You have no idea how rare that is.  I just wanted you to keep treating me like a normal guy--”</p><p>“Yeah,” Xiao Zhan laughs softly, “but you’re not.”</p><p>Yibo’s face falls.  “Zhan-ge -- I’m still just me.”</p><p>“I mean, come on.”  The sarcastic tone Yibo catches in Xiao Zhan’s voice cuts deep, but he knows that this is the price of celebrity -- for better or worse, very few people get close enough to know who he really is.  It’s protective, most of the time, but right now all he wants is to tear that wall down and let Xiao Zhan see him.  If only that was what Xiao Zhan wanted too.  </p><p>“You have to admit,” Xiao Zhan is saying, “that it’s hard to trust when idols are all about selling dreams… everything is just… an act.”</p><p>The anguish Yibo feels at his words is keen.  “I swear I was never acting with you!”</p><p>“And how was I supposed to know?”</p><p>“Maybe if you’d talked to me instead of cutting me off?”  Yibo flails his hands in frustration.  “Instead of believing all the crap online?  That stuff you saw… it’s not really me.  You didn’t let me explain.  And then you were - you were gone.”  </p><p>“You’re right,” Xiao Zhan says with a sad exhale.  “I was wrong.  I wanted to message you.  I really did, but I was afraid that… I… Yeah.  It was a lot to take in.  I didn’t want to… just... the whole idol thing--” he stammers, failing to find the words.</p><p>Yibo groans.  “Why does that matter so much?  It’s just another job!”</p><p>“But it’s not!” he insists, and Yibo is taken aback by the vehemence of his reply.  “Your <em>whole life</em> is - is--”  He stops himself and shakes his head.  “Ah, never mind.”</p><p>Yibo's face hardens.  “No, tell me.  Enlighten me.  What is my life?”</p><p>“No, just forget it.”</p><p>“No.  Tell me,” Yibo demands, his tone more biting.  “What were you going to say?”</p><p>“No--”</p><p>“Say it!”</p><p>“A <em>lie,</em> okay?  Your life is a lie!” Xiao Zhan finally shouts.  “That’s what it means to be an idol!”</p><p>Yibo knows that idol life is pretty fucked up, but it’s <em>his</em> fucked up life to complain about, not for some outside observer to shit on.  </p><p><em>The gall of the man.</em>  </p><p>Yibo can barely contain his fury now, fueled by his months of hurt at being ignored by this guy, the indignity of all those unanswered texts.  Now Xiao Zhan is calling his life a lie, and Yibo a liar.  It’s too much.</p><p>“Oh really?” he hisses, the resentment taut in his chest and threatening to explode.  “That’s what you think?”</p><p>“Yibo--”</p><p>But Yibo is on a roll now, his tongue unleashed by anger.  “You think my life is a lie?  What the fuck?”</p><p>“Yibo, I--”</p><p>“What makes you think you can talk about my life this way?”  He jabs a finger at Xiao Zhan’s chest.  “What do you know about my life, huh?”</p><p>“I KNOW!” Xiao Zhan thunders, slapping away Yibo’s hand.  “I <em>know</em> because I went through idol training!”</p><p>The room is deathly quiet for what feels like an age. </p><p>When Yibo finally speaks, his voice is quiet and disbelieving.  “You - you what?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Wh-when?”</p><p>Xiao Zhan slumps into a chair and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes.  “Years ago.  I did that <em>China’s Next Idol</em> show.  So -- I know all about what it takes to make it as an idol.  You have to learn to play the part,” he recites with a scowl.</p><p>Yibo’s eyes widen in understanding.  “Oh.  <em>That</em> show?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Xiao Zhan nods, then looks up with a start.  “Wait.  Do you know the show?”  He looks stricken.  “Or - or did you watch it?”</p><p>Yibo huffs a bitter laugh.  “Oh.  No.  But it’s kind of an infamous train wreck.  You didn’t know?  There’s a reason there was never a <em>China’s Next Idol 2.</em>  This - this is where you learned about how to be an idol?”</p><p>Xiao Zhan just stares.</p><p>“I mean, don’t get me wrong.  It’s a fucked-up life in a lot of ways, but <em>uhhh,</em> you kind of got to see the worst of it, to be honest.  I wish you’d told me.  I would have understood.”</p><p>“It’s--” Xiao Zhan grimaces.  “It’s a long and miserable story.  And honestly, it’s why you’re better off being far away from me.”</p><p>“Zhan-ge.”  Yibo steps closer, his voice soft. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that, hm?”</p><p>Xiao Zhan opens his mouth and then shakes his head.  “I--”</p><p>Just then, the door opens, and a woman walks in.  She’s petite and fashionably dressed, with playful eyes and an inviting smile.  “Zhanzhan,” she says, “I’m so sorry to bother you--”  </p><p>Yibo’s eyes widen.  <em>Zhanzhan?</em>  He bites his lips into a flat line as Xiao Zhan stands and goes to her with a wide smile, placing a familiar hand on her shoulder to turn her towards Yibo.  </p><p>“Ah, let me introduce you,” he says, shaking off the tenseness of their conversation and giving the woman an indulgent, fond look that makes Yibo frown.  “Lulu, this is--”</p><p>“Wang Yibo,” she finishes.  “Yes, I know.  Nice to meet you, finally.”</p><p><em>Finally?</em>  Yibo tries to smile politely as he takes her hand and offers a small bow of his head.</p><p>“I’m Xuan Lu, but you can call me Lulu.”</p><p>“Lulu is one of my oldest friends,” Xiao Zhan grins, “and now she’s my right hand man--”</p><p>Lulu smacks him.  “Woman.”</p><p>“Yes, yes,” Xiao Zhan laughs.  “And my best friend from art school.  We go way back.  I… couldn’t do without her,” he says with a warm gaze.  “Especially now, with--  Oh, but you came here to hear all about our branding services,” he says with an embarrassed sigh, “and instead…” he trails off.</p><p>Lulu makes an outraged noise and shoots a meaningful look at Xiao Zhan.  “I suspect you two had important preliminary matters to discuss--”</p><p>The smile she gives Yibo is knowing and generous, and he lets out the breath he's been holding.  She knows, which means Xiao Zhan talked to her about him, which means...</p><p>“...and you’re the boss now, Zhanzhan,” Lulu is saying.  “You decide what issues are appropriate to discuss at this meeting.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan buries his face in his hands.  “Oh god,” he laughs.  “Could this have been a more unprofessional meeting?  Mixing business with personal matters is so amateur.”</p><p>Yibo lifts an eyebrow at Xiao Zhan.  “Fuck that.  If that’s a problem, then I can fire you.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan looks up, raising his own eyebrows.  “You can’t fire me.  You haven’t hired me yet!”</p><p>“Then I won't hire you, if that’s what it takes to get you to keep talking to me,” Yibo shoots back with the cocky half-smirk that usually gets him what he wants.</p><p>“Brat,” Xiao Zhan responds with that teasing smile of his, and seeing it again makes Yibo’s heart thump.  “Maybe I reject you first… we’re very exclusive.  We don’t take on just anyone as clients, you know.”</p><p>“Oh?” Yibo replies, taking a step forward into Xiao Zhan’s space.  “How can I convince you to take me on, then?”</p><p>Xiao Zhan swallows as Yibo nears, then recovers with another smile, this one sweet and a little shy.  “Maybe dinner.  I like hotpot.  Spicy.”</p><p>Yibo groans at the idea of more hotpot, but he would eat a plate of hateful carrots if that’s what it took to have time with Xiao Zhan.  He's done stupider things.  “Deal.  Tonight?”</p><p>Xiao Zhan hesitates.  “Tonight?  Tonight I--”</p><p>“Tonight is great,” Lulu interjects, and Xiao Zhan startles, as if he had forgotten she was still standing there.</p><p>“But don’t I--”</p><p>“That’s what I came in to tell you.  The people from CQL called and said they need to reschedule.  That means you no longer have dinner plans,” she grins, and gives Yibo a discreet thumbs-up.  “So… go.  Work out this… partnership of yours.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Yibo finds that he’s nervous and jittery about being at dinner with Xiao Zhan, and it hits him that, before today, he’d never seen Xiao Zhan outside of <em>Red Wolf.</em>  </p><p>The version of Xiao Zhan that he had tended in his mind and pined over all these past months was extrapolated from what little Xiao Zhan had shared in the hours they’d spent together.  It turned out that he'd gotten a lot of that wrong, and the rest was still a vast, unexplored space.  </p><p>He didn’t know where Xiao Zhan grew up, didn’t know that he had a best friend named Lulu, and didn’t know he’d trained to be an idol, for fuck’s sake.</p><p>He hears Xiao Zhan’s incredulous voice in his head.  <em>I owe you?  You barely know me!</em>  Yibo knows, rationally, that he’s right, that it was objectively crazy for Yibo to feel what he did so quickly.  But he’s also certain of what he felt.  </p><p>It has been a relief to get things out on the table, but so many questions remain.  Even now, knowing what Yibo knows, he still feels an undercurrent of hurt from all those months of silence and rejection.</p><p>The shared hotpot between them shimmers with heat, that suspended moment before the liquid reaches the boiling point and begins to bubble.  </p><p>Yibo breaks the silence.  </p><p>“So tell me your story.  What happened on that show?”</p><p>Xiao Zhan sighs.  “God, where do I start?  It was awful, it turned my life upside down, and for a long time my reputation was <em>trash.</em>  I couldn’t get away from it.  The stalking, the cyberbullying, the hate… just relentless… for <em>months.</em>”</p><p>He picks up a plate of tripe and tips it into the simmering broth.  “You asked why I never responded to your messages, and, well -- a big part of that was that I figured -- I figured if you were a famous idol, then you were better off not being anywhere near me.”</p><p>“I wish you had told me--”</p><p>Xiao Zhan laughs bitterly. “And then what?  What would you have done?  If you were the kind of person who would be willing to see past that, then you would be the kind of person I would want to protect from all that.  You didn’t know about my own idol past and how ugly things had gotten -- how toxic I was.  And it was better if you didn’t know, honestly.”</p><p>Yibo looks stricken.  “How bad could it have been?”</p><p>“I thought you said you knew the story about that show?”</p><p>“I know that the show was a train wreck.  Mostly because of the producer… what was his name… Chang?  He was at the center of a big scandal, something like taking bribes from companies for endorsement deals with the contestants.  He let the companies dictate who would advance, that kind of thing.  Honestly, it makes me uncomfortable to look too closely when stuff like that happens because it just reminds me how messed up the industry can be, how easily shit like this can happen to any of us,” Yibo says, disgust pulling at the corners of his mouth.  </p><p>He looks across the table at Xiao Zhan and feels a surge of protectiveness for this man who had clearly fallen in with the wrong people.  He chews on a lip.  “So what happened to you?”</p><p>“It’s a long story,” Xiao Zhan says with a sigh.  “I’ll tell you, but can we eat while I do?  The broth is boiling…”</p><p>And then Xiao Zhan rolls out his tale -- his hopeful excitement at being scouted, the long hours of training, the crushing self-doubt, and then his humiliating exit.  He told Yibo about his months in hiding, and the years he spent trying to remake a life for himself out of the spotlight.</p><p>“God,” Yibo murmurs when Xiao Zhan has finished.  He’s hardly been able to say much more as Xiao Zhan explained everything he’d been through.  “Okay, so I can see why you don’t want to have anything to do with idols anymore.  But -- if it makes you feel better, I had never heard about you.”</p><p>“Really?” Xiao Zhan asks, disbelieving.  “At the time, it really felt like the whole country hated me.”</p><p>“Fan culture has a way of magnifying the worst human impulses,” Yibo says grimly.  “But the entertainment industry is so sprawling, and things move so fast, it probably wasn’t a big enough deal for it to rate as a real scandal.  There were probably just enough fans involved to make it feel like hell to you.  Maybe it was a blessing that you were cut reasonably early.”</p><p>“Not early enough to save my reputation,” Xiao Zhan sighs.</p><p>“I don’t know about that,” Yibo shrugs.  “Honestly, when it was revealed that Chang was fixing the whole competition, people just assumed all the drama around the contestants was manufactured by him.  I doubt people would blame you for all the shit with that guy.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan hums thoughtfully as he eats.</p><p>“So… who was he?”</p><p>“Who?”</p><p>“The guy who fucked you over?”</p><p>Xiao Zhan looks at Yibo warily.  “W-why do you ask?”</p><p>Yibo shrugs and purses his lips, an obviously practiced look of innocence.  “... just curious,” he says lightly.</p><p>“Wang Yibo,” Xiao Zhan warns, teeth bared.  “No.”</p><p>Yibo snorts and holds his hands up.  “I’m not going to <em>do</em> anything.  I just want to know who it was.”</p><p>“...I don’t think so...”</p><p>“Tell me, come on.  Don’t make me go and ask around, because I can do that instead if you want.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan tries to give Yibo a scolding look, but his eyes are twinkling.  “You absolute gremlin.  Do you always get what you want?”</p><p>“Maybe,” Yibo replies with a bratty smile.</p><p>“Fine,” Xiao Zhan relents, and takes a deep breath.  “Xie Mingyue.”</p><p>Yibo thinks a minute.  “Huh.  That name actually sounds familiar.  Hold on.”  He takes his phone out and taps on it for a minute.  “Ah yes.  I thought so.  This guy?”  He holds his phone up to Xiao Zhan, and he knows it’s the guy from the way Xiao Zhan flinches.  “He was involved in a scandal a year or so ago.  Two-timed a couple of women and got called out for it.  His company dropped him.”  </p><p>He hands the phone to Xiao Zhan.  “Don’t think he can do anything to you anymore.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan scans the photos and the articles and lets out a heavy breath, then hands the phone back to Yibo.</p><p>“You never searched him up before?” Yibo asks, curious.  “You didn’t know about this?”</p><p>“Mn.  No.”  </p><p>Yibo cocks his head.  “You don’t seem happy.  Isn’t all this a relief -- that you don’t need to be hiding from him or his toxic fans anymore?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Xiao Zhan groans.  “I can’t bring myself to be happy about the end of his career, even if he ruined mine.  I mean, should I be happy that this shit happens all the time?  People make mistakes and they get torn apart in public for entertainment.  That doesn’t make me feel better.  And the idea that what happened to me, what turned my life into hell for -- what -- a year?  It turns out that it was, apparently, such a - a <em>nothing</em> thing… I mean, I’m glad you never heard about it, but what does it say, that me getting fucked over can be shrugged off so easily?”</p><p>“I get it,” Yibo says.  “But it’s not always like this, Zhan-ge.  There are good people.  You just had the bad luck to cross paths with someone horrible.  Well, a few horrible people, really.”</p><p>“And I managed to treat one of the good ones really badly,” he says with a wide-eyed look so full of regret that it physically hurts Yibo.  “Clearly I was not cut out for idol life-- ”</p><p>“No - no don’t--” Yibo insists.  “None of that was your fault.  You just had a really bad break.  And you know, with your voice and your face, if you wanted to--”</p><p>Xiao Zhan cuts him off with a laugh and an arch of his brow.  “No.  No more idol dreams for me, thanks!”</p><p>“No idols for you, hm?” Yibo pouts playfully, but the idea that Xiao Zhan might still -- understandably -- want to stay far from anything idol-related lands like a punch to the gut.  </p><p>Yibo tries to look casual as he fishes out some meat from the steaming broth.  “So you left the country because you really just needed to get far away from my idol ass?”</p><p>Xiao Zhan laughs.  “It might surprise you to know that my going to Taipei wasn't about you.”</p><p>Yibo feels his face flush at the pointed reminder that Xiao Zhan has a life and goals that have nothing to do with Yibo -- and that maybe Yibo had not meant to Xiao Zhan what he had hoped.</p><p>“Ru Ling had called that night -- the - the night I last saw you,” Xiao Zhan begins, “because he wanted to discuss reorganizing the business.  I needed to go to Taipei to work through all of that with him -- help him set up a branch in Taipei, and also sort out my new responsibilities -- or rather my expanded responsibilities on the branding side of things.”</p><p>Yibo nods.  “But then why didn’t you just tell me that?  You - you didn’t say anything.  You just -- left.  Told me to find another artist.  And then you never responded to my messages.  It hurt… I mean, it felt really personal.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan chews on his lip, a genuinely pained look on his face.  “I’m so sorry--”</p><p>“-- Zhan-ge, don't--”</p><p>“I - I did really like you.  I mean -- I do.  I like you.”  A pink blush blooms on his cheeks.</p><p>Yibo can't hide the grin ticking up on his own face.  “You - you do?  You like me?”</p><p>“Yes?  Was - was that not clear?”</p><p>Yibo tries not to give away the happy thumping in his chest at these words.  He’s pretty sure he’s failing.  “You - you actually never said, you know.  I mean, I thought you did.  That you - you liked me, I mean.  When we - we kissed.  But then you just… left.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan’s face flushes an even deeper pink.  “I’m really terrible at this, huh?”  He cringes.  “God, I’m so sorry, Yibo.”</p><p>Yibo flinches.</p><p>“There was -- it was a lot,” Xiao Zhan continues.  “And I didn’t want to drag you down into all my drama.  Leaving was... not about you, although I guess it was a convenient way to avoid dealing with... all of this."  He sighs.  "I should have talked to you.”</p><p>“I get it,” Yibo says with a nod of his head.  “Why you left.  I didn’t understand before… but I do now.  I might have reacted the same way, if it had been me.”  He thinks for a moment.  “No, wait, there’s no way I would have let a hottie like you go.”</p><p>“Wang Yibo.”</p><p>“I guess that means you just weren’t that into me,” he says, and tries to pin a casual smile on his face to hide how real this fear feels.</p><p>“Fishing, are we?” Xiao Zhan says, quirking an eyebrow, and Yibo feels himself swoon at the way his eyes twinkle. </p><p>“Can’t blame me for trying.”</p><p>“I -- I hadn’t forgotten you, you know.  I just - I think I just needed time.”  He pauses and looks up at Yibo through his lashes with a perfect pout, like the idol he almost was.  “But I understand if I missed my window…”</p><p>“I’ll have to think about it,”  Yibo teases.</p><p>“Ah, Lao Wang,” Xiao Zhan sighs with a soft smile, one hand reaching across the table to take Yibo’s.  “How can I convince you to give me a second chance?”</p><p>Yibo looks down at their hands, fingers casually entwined, and his chest warms at how right it feels.  Despite everything, all the misunderstandings, all the things he hadn't known, he hadn't been wrong about this.  There's no way he'll let go now.</p><p>“Well,” he says with a smirk, “I’ve got this half-finished tattoo that I need help with…”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>References:</p><p>Yibo’s Himalaya broadcast about the world’s shortest flight: <a href="https://twitter.com/SgWangyibo/status/1275334850396844034?s=20">https://twitter.com/SgWangyibo/status/1275334850396844034?s=20</a></p><p>🔥 ALSO -- CHECK OUT THIS FANTASTIC EDIT OF THE BOARD ROOM SCENE BY THE AMAZING <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Max_Maks_Art/pseuds/Max_Maks_Art">Max_Maks_Art</a>!  XZ with a black panther tattoo! <a href="https://twitter.com/max_maks_/status/1389281181812891651?s=20">https://twitter.com/max_maks_/status/1389281181812891651?s=20</a> 🔥</p><p>-------------</p><p>Thanks as always to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireflavoredwhiskey/pseuds/fireflavoredwhiskey">Elle</a> for being my beloved beta reader for this whole AU and keeping me going, and to the w&amp;w gang for the sprints (and putting up with all my writing-related complaining for the past month and a half)!</p><p>Kudos and comments are always appreciated! ❤️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>There’s a shy flutter in Yibo’s chest as the quiet stretches out between them.  <em>He likes me,</em> Yibo thinks with a vaguely dopey smile -- but now that they’re here, in his apartment, he’s weirdly anxious.  If he'd invited him over for a casual hookup, there’d be no question what they’d be doing now.    </p><p>He knows, though, that’s not what he wants with Xiao Zhan.  What he’s not sure of is what Xiao Zhan wants with him.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Things got a little crazy, and the rating changed to E, starting with this chapter.  If things like dynamics matter to you, then mind the tags.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Remind me again why we couldn’t just order baijiu or beers at the restaurant?”  </p><p>Yibo hums a little nervously as he opens the door to his apartment and ushers Xiao Zhan in with an exaggerated sweep of an arm.  “I just thought maybe we’d be more comfortable in my apartment.  And, you know -- I’m a famous idol,” he says with a dry cough and a sly smile, “so I can’t risk making a scene in a public place.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan’s mouth drops open and he shoves Yibo’s shoulder playfully.  “Oh, it’s like that now?  Now that we’ve gotten all the idol stuff out in the open, you’re just gonna rub your fame in my face all the time?”  He flashes one of his brilliant smiles and Yibo feels his knees buckle just a little under him, as if the months of chilly silence have left him utterly defenseless to the man’s casual charms.</p><p>“I’m - I’m not - I - I didn’t--” he stammers, and groans inside at his inarticulate mutterings.  <em>Smooth, Yibo.</em></p><p>Xiao Zhan doesn’t seem to notice, his gaze sweeping over the interior of the apartment instead.  Yibo breathes a sigh of relief that it’s at least tidy, if a little painfully boyish, with his motorcycle helmets, skateboards, and LEGO models displayed on shelves built around a massive TV hooked up to a variety of gaming consoles.  He bites down on his lips, wondering what Xiao Zhan, who spends his free time pursuing artsy and cultured hobbies, must be thinking.</p><p>He watches as Xiao Zhan’s eyes settle on the view.  “Not rubbing it in at all,” Xiao Zhan murmurs under his breath, sweeping past Yibo to stand at the large windows looking out over the city, colorful lights blinking and twinkling far below.</p><p>He takes in the sight in silence as Yibo joins him at his side.  “It’s nice,” he offers, after a beat.</p><p>“It is,” Yibo agrees, nodding.  “Sadly, I don’t actually get that much time to enjoy it.”</p><p>“That’s a shame,” Xiao Zhan says, then hums to himself for a minute.</p><p>There’s a shy flutter in Yibo’s chest as the quiet stretches out between them.  <em>He likes me,</em> Yibo thinks with a vaguely dopey smile -- but now that they’re here, in his apartment, he’s weirdly anxious.  If he'd invited him over for a casual hookup, there’d be no question what they’d be doing now.  </p><p>He knows, though, that’s not what he wants with Xiao Zhan.  What he’s not sure of is what Xiao Zhan wants with him.</p><p>“So, Lao Wang,” a lilting note in Xiao Zhan’s voice as he draws out the nickname, “What scene were you going to make?”</p><p>Yibo turns with a confused look, wondering if he’s asking about work, of all things.  “What scene?” </p><p>“You said you didn’t want to have a drink with me at the restaurant for fear of making a scene.  That’s why we’re here, right?”  A small smile plays across his face, and then he winks, a devastating little gesture that makes Yibo suck in his breath.  “If you just wanted me to come home with you, to impress me with your digs, you could have just said, you know.”</p><p>Yibo swallows as Xiao Zhan takes a step closer.  “I didn’t--” he begins, but can’t think of what to say next, suddenly aware of how tall the man feels in this space, standing so close to him.</p><p>“It’s okay.”  He moves still closer, his voice so soft that Yibo has to lean in to hear.  “I didn’t think I was coming here for a drink anyway.”</p><p>Hours of a tentative dance, and the slow unraveling of the misunderstandings between them, have led to this: Xiao Zhan standing in front of Yibo, in Yibo’s apartment.  It’s still a little jarring, seeing him someplace other than at the tattoo parlor or in his dreams, so Yibo stealthily pinches a leg to let it all sink in, the heady realization that a treasured fantasy has become something real.</p><p>Yibo feels the heat rise on his face as he watches Xiao Zhan watching him.</p><p>“Can I?” Xiao Zhan asks softly, tipping Yibo’s chin up with a light brush of his hand, his eyes warm and gentle.  “Can I kiss you, Yibo?”</p><p>Yibo sways forward, his entire body aching for his touch.  But he needs to know.  “Is - is it just for tonight?  I mean, you aren’t gonna - gonna leave?” he gulps, a little annoyed with himself at how needy he must sound.  “Afterwards, you won’t just leave?  Again?”</p><p>Xiao Zhan shakes his head, his hand dropping into an anxious fist, and Yibo immediately misses the feel of his hand on him.  It’s like a knife in his chest when Xiao Zhan sighs heavily and averts his eyes.  <em>Ah.  So this is all he wants.</em></p><p>“Yibo, I’m so sorry I--”</p><p>Yibo grimaces, a stream of texted apologies from Xiao Zhan flashing through this mind.  “No, stop,” Yibo says, gripping an arm.  “Please.  I can’t take any more ‘sorry’s from you.  I understand, I do.”  He swallows hard.  “But I just - I just don’t think I could stand it if you disappeared again, so - so… tell me... I just need to know--”</p><p>Xiao Zhan dips his head to catch Yibo's eyes, his voice reassuring.  “Hey.  No, I'm not disappearing again.”  The expression on his face is soft and sincere, and slowly gives way to a shy grin.  “I’m - I’m not looking for something - something c-casual from you.  I - I’m just not sure what a famous idol like Wang Yibo would want with this humble tattoo artist--”</p><p>“Zhan-ge--” Yibo complains, even as relief washes over him.</p><p>“--you could have anyone you wanted--”</p><p>“Ge, stop it,” Yibo says, swatting at his arm with mock annoyance.  </p><p>Xiao Zhan lets out a delighted laugh and grabs Yibo’s hands to still them. “--I'm serious!"  He bites his lip in that way that drives Yibo a little crazy.  "But if I haven’t fucked this up already, if you still want me… I mean, I--”</p><p>“Oh my god, shut up and kiss me already,” Yibo breathes, looping a hand around a strap on Xiao Zhan’s ridiculous vest and pulling him in.  The moment their lips meet, Yibo feels his body melting against him, his mouth falling open helplessly with a satisfied sigh.  </p><p>There had been times, during those long months apart, when Yibo had asked himself if maybe he had idealized their one kiss in his head just for the sake of drama, to make Xiao Zhan leaving for Taipei into something even more tragic.  Or maybe to justify to himself why he couldn’t let this man go.</p><p>But where that first kiss had been fired by the frantic, desperate energy of two people reaching for the <em>idea</em> of a connection, this kiss takes root in something more solid -- the reality of who they are and what they’ve come to understand about each other.</p><p>It starts slow, their lips and tongues tangling experimentally, learning the taste and feel of each other.  Before long, though, Yibo is struggling to keep up with the pace set by Xiao Zhan, who braces his long arms against the window frame, crowding Yibo up against the smooth and unyielding glass, his mouth hot and demanding on Yibo’s.</p><p>The cool of the window on Yibo’s back is the only thing keeping him from combusting as Xiao Zhan slowly grinds his hips into Yibo’s own, a thigh sliding up between Yibo’s legs.  Their kiss goes on and on, and Yibo can’t get enough air into his lungs, his heart rabbiting in his chest as Xiao Zhan looms over him, filling all his senses.  </p><p>Pressed up against the glass, Yibo has the sudden and wild sensation of being suspended in air, the illusion fed by the way the city lights twinkle just at the edges of his peripheral vision as Xiao Zhan devours him.  It’s a strange sensation, to feel weightless and weighed down all at once.  It makes him feel invincible, a little reckless.</p><p>“Are you gonna fuck me right here, gege?” Yibo gasps, adrenaline racing through his veins, “Right here, for all of Shanghai to see?”  </p><p>It comes out of his mouth like a dare, but mostly he says it to tell Xiao Zhan <em>yeah, I want this</em> and <em>don’t stop.</em>  Xiao Zhan’s eyes darken with desire.  “Yibo,” he says, his voice ragged and low, “I want to do so many things to you right now.  But tonight,” he murmurs into Yibo’s ear, “I want you in your bed.”</p><p>Yibo feels the words pool in his gut, and it’s all he can do to stay on his feet when Xiao Zhan steps back slightly, like he’s giving Yibo an invitation to lead the way.  “Fuck,” Yibo mutters, and grabs Xiao Zhan’s hand to pull him down the hall to his bedroom, jittery with nerves and arousal.</p><p>Once there, Yibo spins around to face Xiao Zhan and greedily kisses him, hands winding around the nape of his neck to pull him close.  The room is dark, illuminated only by the hallway light, sharpening Yibo’s attention to the soft and wet sounds of their kisses, the shushing of their shared breaths.  </p><p>Xiao Zhan presses his face into Yibo’s neck and Yibo lets his head roll back, groaning at the sensation when Xiao Zhan’s warm mouth finds his Adam’s apple, lips grazing the skin.  Yibo loses himself in the feel of Xiao Zhan’s messy kisses down the column of his neck and stifles a cry when he feels his teeth nip lightly at the sensitive skin just above his collarbone, a teasing touch before Xiao Zhan whispers a husky, “Is this okay?  Do you have a photoshoot--”</p><p>“Do it,” Yibo grits out.  He can’t actually remember what his schedule is, but he doesn’t fucking care.  All he has ever wanted since the day he met Xiao Zhan is to have him leave marks on his body, and he’s not going to stop wanting it tonight.</p><p>“<em>Nghh,</em>” Yibo grunts as he feels Xiao Zhan bite down and suck up a mark on his neck, the hot drag of teeth and tongue sending ripples of pleasure up and down his spine.</p><p>Xiao Zhan walks Yibo backwards until the back of his legs hit the edge of his bed and he flops down on the mattress, looking up at Xiao Zhan with a glassy-eyed stare.  Xiao Zhan leans over him, caging him in with his arms.</p><p>Yibo fingers the buckles and straps on Xiao Zhan’s vest before pulling on them clumsily, too aroused to figure out how to unclasp them.  He swats at them impatiently and demands, “Off.  Get this.  Off.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan raises an eyebrow with a smirk.  “Bossy, bossy,” he laughs, and then stands up to undo the straps and buckles, slow and deliberate, his eyes fixed on Yibo.  Yibo restlessly follows his movements with a ravenous gaze, not looking away even as he pulls off his own shirt and his jeans, drinking in the way Xiao Zhan bites the corner of his lip in concentration as he unclasps the buckles one by one, then shrugs the vest off his shoulders with an exaggerated twist of his torso.</p><p>He drops the vest to the floor and wets his lips slowly.  The look he gives Yibo is scorching.  “What did you think -- was it like an idol would do?”</p><p>Yibo swallows hard and tries to be helpful in his appraisal.  “B-better,” he stammers, his voice cracking just a little, hopelessly turned on.  “Hotter.  But does that mean it’s just an act?  Or do you actually want me as much as I want you?”</p><p>“Do you want to find out?”</p><p>“God yes,” Yibo says as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of his own briefs and starts to pull them down.</p><p>“Hey,” Xiao Zhan says sharply, and Yibo freezes in place.  “Leave something for me to do.”</p><p>Yibo obediently stills his hands and scoots his way into the middle of the bed, propping himself up on his elbows, his eyes full of want as Xiao Zhan stands to continue stripping off his clothing.  “Did you want to help?” Xiao Zhan asks, his fingers reaching for the hem of his shirt.</p><p>“No,” Yibo says with a lick of his lips.  “I want you to take it off.  And I’ll watch.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan gives him a lopsided grin and rakes his eyes over Yibo’s bare torso.  “Alright.”  </p><p>Yibo feels a charge of electricity zip through him as Xiao Zhan pulls the hem of his shirt over his head, teasing the reveal of pale, muscled skin that stands in stark contrast to the dark color of his shirt.  But suddenly, a stricken look crosses Xiao Zhan's face, like he's just remembered something, and the strip tease comes to an abrupt end, leaving Xiao Zhan standing awkwardly with one arm still in a sleeve, the rest of his shirt draped over a shoulder.</p><p>Yibo's breath catches in his throat at the idea that maybe Xiao Zhan is reconsidering what they’re about to do.  “What is it?” he asks, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.  “Are you--”</p><p>“I should tell you--” Xiao Zhan starts, a note of hesitancy in his voice, and Yibo’s heart begins to hammer in earnest.  “I did some things since I saw you last--”</p><p>Yibo plasters a smile on his face to hide his panic and dismay, his mind unwillingly going back to those painful months apart.  “It’s - I mean, I understand,” he stammers, “we weren’t - I know we didn’t -- so if there was someone else--”  </p><p>To Yibo, that kiss had felt like the beginning of something more, something he had wanted so desperately since the moment he had first laid eyes on Xiao Zhan, and that he had clung to long after Xiao Zhan was gone.</p><p>The months of silence afterwards told him that it hadn’t been that way for Xiao Zhan.  </p><p>He lets his eyes rove across the handsome, chiseled planes of the man’s face, those eyes that seemed to look right into Yibo’s soul, and he knows that there was no way that Xiao Zhan, as effortlessly magnetic and sexy as he is, didn’t have someone else -- probably several someone elses -- in the time they’d been apart.  </p><p>Yibo swallows down the sour taste in his mouth and tells himself that it doesn’t matter -- that Xiao Zhan is here now, half naked in his bedroom -- and that he doesn’t care about the rest, as long as he doesn’t leave again, taking another piece of Yibo’s heart with him.</p><p>Xiao Zhan slowly slides down onto the bed next to Yibo.  “No,” he says, almost shyly.  “It’s - it’s nothing like that.  There - there wasn’t anyone else.”  He bites his lip and casts his eyes down coquettishly as he slides his shirt off his shoulder.</p><p>Yibo gasps.</p><p>Even in the dim light, Yibo can see black inky lines snaking down from Xiao Zhan’s shoulder and winding down his bicep.  Tattoos.  A half-sleeve of them.  It’s unbearably hot.</p><p>“What--”  Yibo huffs, speechless, and leans in to trace a finger along the tattoos, feeling the ripple of firm muscle under his touch.  Tribal lines twine in intricate patterns both geometric and organic around--</p><p>Yibo looks up and finds Xiao Zhan’s eyes on his, a small, hesitant smile playing across his lips.  “Zhan-ge, is this - is this a black panther?”</p><p>Xiao Zhan nods, holding his arm out and pointing at the design with his other hand.  Yibo’s eyes flit over the lines of the tattoo, and he is trying to hear what Xiao Zhan has to say about the panther, but can’t concentrate over the sudden ringing in his ears.</p><p>“You - you - this tattoo--” Yibo stutters incoherently, “for m-me?”</p><p>“I - <em>ahhh</em> - yes?” </p><p>The shock that Yibo feels at this revelation must be written all over his face, because Xiao Zhan looks more than a little worried.  “I - I know it’s a - a little weird,” he says with an uncertain look.</p><p>“Weird?  Weird?” Yibo repeats, slightly hysterical.  “I never wanted any tattoos, and then I saw you and now I have three -- okay, two-and-a-half -- because I wanted you to mark my body with something I could always look at that would make me think of you--”</p><p>“Me?  All of them?”</p><p>“All of them.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan opens his mouth and shakes his head.  “Me,” he murmurs, disbelieving.  “All this time?”</p><p>Yibo gapes, incredulous at the question.  “Zhan-ge, did you really not know?”</p><p>“Why would I -- I didn’t--”</p><p>“Come here,” Yibo half-barks, pulling him forward.  His eyes flicker quickly over Xiao Zhan’s body and then with a laugh, he shoves a very confused Xiao Zhan back again.  “But take those jeans off first, will you?  They’re hot, but they’d be hotter on my floor.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan rolls his eyes.  “That’s a terrible line,” he groans as Yibo cackles.  “I can’t believe I’ve been fantasizing about you for months,” he laughs fondly as he peels his jeans off, making a show of tossing them on the floor.  “Better?”</p><p>Yibo gives him a satisfied smirk, but inside, he’s still a little dazed at the idea that Xiao Zhan had missed him, pined for him, and <em>marked himself for him</em> after he’d left.  </p><p>Xiao Zhan crawls across the bed and settles over Yibo with a long sigh.  The sensation of Xiao Zhan’s body on his is so much, their bare chests pressed together, the telltale ache where Xiao Zhan’s cock is pressing into him; he knows his own erection is making itself known too.</p><p>The kiss they share is slow, deep, and languid.  Yibo feels like he’s drowning in him, he can’t catch his breath because Xiao Zhan is everywhere, making his thoughts scatter like fish in a pond.  He tries to ground himself by running his hands over the firm muscles on Xiao Zhan’s back, warm and solid, settling into the feeling of Xiao Zhan’s arms wrapped around him.</p><p>“It’s always been you.  Just you, Zhan-ge,” he whispers against his lips.</p><p>Xiao Zhan smiles softly as he lets out a quiet huff of air, then dips his head lower, licking his way down Yibo’s jaw and then nuzzling into his neck.  Yibo tips his head back and groans with pleasure.  He runs a palm down Xiao Zhan’s shoulder and lets his fingers play over the lines of the tattoo there.</p><p>
  <em>He did this for me.</em>
</p><p>“Why - why didn’t you tell me?” Yibo sighs, imagining Xiao Zhan thousands of miles away, sitting for this tattoo, and his eyes blur at the thought.  “You never responded to my messages in all that time.  But you - you did this?”</p><p>Xiao Zhan lifts his head to gaze into Yibo’s eyes, gentle fingers stroking away the sudden wetness on his cheeks.  “I had convinced myself that it was foolish to - to want you, and - and wrong to lead you on if there was no place for me in an idol’s world… and I guess… this was all that I could let myself have of you.”</p><p>“You thought it would be foolish to want me?” Yibo lets out a wet laugh.  “Responding to my messages would have been more foolish than tattooing my avatar on yourself?”</p><p>"I just - I didn't--" he huffs, at a loss for words, then sighs in resignation.  “I figured no one would know what the tattoo meant but me.  That I was pining for some <em>idol.</em>  I mean... <em>fuck!</em>  You're <em>Wang Yibo!</em>  You don't see how it felt a little delusional to think I could actually have you?”  He shrugs helplessly, puffing his cheeks out with an overwhelmed expression that Yibo can't help but laugh at.</p><p>“You’re such a fucking idiot, Zhan-ge,” Yibo snorts.</p><p>Xiao Zhan's mouth drops open at the audacity of Yibo’s words.  “Thanks?  Should I go, then?”</p><p>Yibo grabs him as he playfully pulls away.  “Fuck no,” he says, and then they’re kissing again.</p><p>“Forgive me,” Xiao Zhan breathes against Yibo’s lips. “I really was an idiot to leave all this,” he smiles, and then ducks down to lick and kiss a trail down Yibo’s chest.</p><p>Yibo gasps and arches into the sensation of Xiao Zhan’s tongue darting over his nipples, and then lower, his hot breath ghosting on Yibo’s belly.  His pulse quickens in anticipation when he feels Xiao Zhan edging down the waistband of his briefs with gentle hands.  There’s a soft intake of breath, then: “You - you never got it finished.”</p><p>Yibo blinks at the abrupt shift in Xiao Zhan’s focus.  <em>Ahh, the tattoo.</em>  “You left!” Yibo scoffs.  “How could I have gotten it finished?”</p><p>“But--”</p><p>Yibo can’t resist the opening, and props himself up so he can smack Xiao Zhan on the arm.  “You left me with a half-done tattoo,” he says in challenge.  “Even if you doubted what you meant to me, that was a dick move.”</p><p>“Another artist--”</p><p>“Wouldn’t have been the same, and you know it,” Yibo counters.  “And -- I didn’t want another person to ink me here,” he says, eyes flickering down to where the tattoo still lies mostly hidden.  “Only you.”</p><p><em>And only me,</em> Yibo thinks as he reaches out with a hand to touch the black panther tattoo on Xiao Zhan’s shoulder -- but unexpectedly his hand is brushed away.</p><p>“What--” Yibo starts, confused, a little worried that maybe he’s gone too far in airing his grievances.</p><p>But Xiao Zhan is nodding, a shy smile spreading across his face.  “I know you're right,” he says, chewing on his bottom lip.  The sexy mole underneath is distractingly inviting when he does this.  “Another artist <em>wouldn’t</em> have been the same,” he concedes, but Yibo’s feeling of victory is short-lived as he feels Xiao Zhan pulling away.  “Want me to explain why?”</p><p>Yibo is incredulous.  “Now?”</p><p>“Trust me,” Xiao Zhan says with that smile that Yibo cannot say no to.  “Lay back.”</p><p>Yibo does.</p><p>Xiao Zhan stretches out next to him and leans on one elbow, tracing a finger down Yibo’s bare chest.  “Do you know why no two tattoos can ever be the same?  It’s true that different artists have different skills or styles, or have a different touch to their lines, but tattoos can be different even when inked by the same artist because every canvas -- every person -- is different.”</p><p>He takes Yibo’s arm between his hands.  “Your skin here is soft and smooth,” he says while swiping his fingers lightly along the <em>wu gan</em> characters, “but other people might have rougher skin, they might have more hair, and any of those things might change the way the ink looks or takes.”</p><p>Yibo feels the bed move around him as Xiao Zhan rearranges himself, casually draping himself against Yibo’s body.  There’s a light tickle as Xiao Zhan lets his fingers ride over the ripples of his abs.  </p><p>“I have to take into account the contours of muscles under skin.”  He circles Yibo’s navel.  “The dips.”  He sweeps a palm over Yibo’s chest.  “The rises.  How firm the muscles are.”  He caresses the sensitive nub of his nipple with his thumb, and then the other, and Yibo feels his muscles twitching in response to the gentle probing.  “The different feel of certain parts of the body.  All of this matters.”</p><p>“This is something I've learned to appreciate as a tattoo artist.  There are no shortcuts,” he muses as his hands explore Yibo’s body, a touch here, a caress there.  He looks up through his lashes, and Yibo feels his breath catch in his throat, his whole body tensing as he feels Xiao Zhan’s fingers purposefully tracking down his hip over his briefs, along the inguinal crease, and sweeping away with a teasing swirl just before reaching his cock, now straining against the dampening fabric.</p><p>The tension is killing Yibo, and he flutters his eyes closed just as he feels Xiao Zhan's delicate fingers playing once again along the waistband of his briefs.  “Can I?” Xiao Zhan asks, and all Yibo can manage is a small, embarrassing squeak and a nod.</p><p>Yibo feels the familiar coil of desire in his gut as Xiao Zhan finally works his briefs off his hips and slides them off.  Now naked under Xiao Zhan’s gaze, he finds he’s torn: he wants to drink in every movement he makes because this is <em>Xiao Zhan</em> in his bedroom, but he also knows that he might come just from the visual of Xiao Zhan leaning over his dick, and doesn’t want it to be over yet.</p><p>“God, Yibo, look at you,” he hears Xiao Zhan whisper, almost reverently, and Yibo feels the sound of his voice tingle over his scalp and down his back.  Yibo lets out a shuddering breath and raises an arm to touch Xiao Zhan, who firmly pats his hand back down.  “No touching.”</p><p>Yibo blinks, feeling the command land in his chest, his breath coming more ragged as Xiao Zhan’s hands continue to travel across his body.  It’s torture, what Xiao Zhan is doing to him.  He must know it.  Yibo throws an arm over his eyes to block out the visuals, but this only focuses his mind even more on the sound of Xiao Zhan’s voice, calm and controlled.</p><p>“To do tattoos well you have to be in tune with the other person’s body,” he says, and Yibo feels lightheaded at the feel of Xiao Zhan’s warm hands trailing on his skin, his breaths coming more erratic and shallow now.  He knows without looking that Xiao Zhan is tracing the body of his unfinished dragon tattoo, following its lines over the sensitive skin of Yibo’s groin.  </p><p>“I take into account the feel of their skin,” he murmurs, and Yibo feels the coil of arousal tightening deep in his belly as sure fingers sweep closer, closer.  “The texture... is it thin… or thick?” Xiao Zhan’s hand is on his cock now, and Yibo hears a whine fall from his own lips.  “Zhan-ge please, I can’t--” he starts, but then Xiao Zhan slides his hand from root to tip, and that’s all it takes.  Yibo groans, his body arching as he comes, long and hard, over Xiao Zhan’s fist and onto his own stomach.  </p><p>“<em>Hnngh</em>… Zhan-ge…” he pants, shaking his head. “Oh god, I - I’m so--”</p><p>Yibo feels the bed shift around him again and he opens his eyes to find Xiao Zhan’s face above his.  “Shhh,” he says with a soft smile, and kisses Yibo to shut him up.  His hand is still wrapped around Yibo’s cock, lazily jacking him off, slick with his own come, until Yibo hisses at the exquisite pain and swats Xiao Zhan’s hand away.  “Can’t.  Please.  Give me.  A minute,” he gasps.</p><p>“Just a minute, though, right?” he murmurs as he licks into Yibo’s mouth.  “We’re not done already, are we?”</p><p>“Fuck no,” Yibo grunts, still breathless.</p><p>“Good,” Xiao Zhan says, nipping at Yibo’s lips.  “Because that was so hot, Lao Wang.  And now you’ll last longer for me, won’t you?”</p><p>Yibo swallows hard and nods mutely.  </p><p>Xiao Zhan swipes two fingers through the slick pooled on Yibo’s belly, getting his fingers wet with it.  “Remember when I told you about dick tattoos?”</p><p>Yibo’s breath stops in his chest, his whole body hanging in suspense as he nods again and waits to find out where this story is headed.  “Did you know,” Xiao Zhan says with a lick of his lips, “that people also get tattoos here?”  A low groan escapes Yibo’s lips and he lets his legs fall open to welcome Xiao Zhan’s probing fingers inside of him.</p><p>“You’ve - you've done tattoos <em>there</em>?”  Yibo is panting again, moving his hips to urge Xiao Zhan’s fingers on.</p><p>“No, not me.  But I know that it’s a thing people have asked to have tattooed.”  Xiao Zhan shifts his weight, twisting his fingers and wringing a gasp out of Yibo.  “Is this okay?”</p><p>“Oh god yes.  Don’t stop,” Yibo grits out, rolling his hips into the pressure.  “Zhan-ge,” he sighs, “I - I don’t think I can take the idea of you inking anyone else now…” </p><p>Xiao Zhan leans in and licks down Yibo’s neck, sucking up another bruise into the pale skin as his fingers continue their exploration.  His warm voice vibrates into Yibo’s body.  “Drinking vinegar, Lao Wang?”  </p><p>Yibo bucks against Xiao Zhan’s hand and groans, trying to rein in his chaotic thoughts.  “Do you -- <em>nghh</em> -- do you think about… about all these things when you - when you touch other people’s skin?  When you’re tattooing other - other people?”  He cringes, hearing his own voice play back in his head, helplessly needy, a sour taste sharp on his tongue.</p><p>“Now?”  Xiao Zhan huffs as he mouths over a nipple, a vaguely annoyed note in his voice.  “<em>This</em> is what you’re thinking of, right now, Lao Wang?  Other people?”</p><p>Yibo knows this is probably not the most appropriate time to be feeling insecure, writhing under and around Xiao Zhan’s fingers, but he can’t help himself.  “N-no,” he pants, hands tangled in and lightly pulling on Xiao Zhan’s hair.  “<em>Ahhh,</em> maybe?  I--”</p><p>Xiao Zhan lifts his head up and looks at Yibo through heavy-lidded eyes.  “These were definitely things I thought about when I was tattooing <em>you</em>--” </p><p>A grin blooms over Yibo’s face.  “You - you did?”</p><p>“You’re such a menace,” Xiao Zhan laughs, and curls a finger that sends a jolt straight to Yibo’s cock.  He sits up and runs an appraising hand down Yibo’s abs while continuing to work him open with the other.  “You know how hot you are, don’t even pretend.  Took all my self control not to jump you right there on the table.”</p><p>Yibo sucks in a breath at the thought of Xiao Zhan bending him over a table at <em>Red Wolf,</em> and he tries and fails not to sound too eager.  “Oh god -- can you?  Sometime?  Soon?”</p><p>XIao Zhan hums thoughtfully.  “That can be arranged.  But for tonight,” he says, a knowing grin on his lips, “Where do you want it?”</p><p>“<em>Haaaah,</em>” Yibo laughs, the familiar line bringing a smile to his face.  “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”</p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Xiao Zhan smiles, withdrawing his fingers and sliding up Yibo’s body to capture his lips in a messy, demanding kiss.  “I just wanna know--”</p><p>“Ge,” Yibo gasps into his mouth, “if you don’t fuck me soon, I’m - I'm gonna have to find another tattoo artist who will.”</p><p>XIao Zhan responds by biting down on Yibo’s soft lower lip and dragging his teeth over it.  “Well I can't have that.  Tell me where your stuff is,” he says, grinding up against Yibo, “and I’ll take care of you.”</p><p>Yibo, breathless, waves a hand at his bedside table.</p><p>The delicious burn when Xiao Zhan finally pushes in leaves Yibo gasping and desperately clutching at Xiao Zhan’s hips, and he suddenly thinks about how it felt when Xiao Zhan inked Yibo's first tattoo, the keen shock of pain giving way to the pleasure of Xiao Zhan’s touch on his skin, the smell of him, the sound of his breath in his ear.  </p><p>This is better, of course.</p><p>“<em>Ah-ah god,</em> ge,” Yibo stutters out as Xiao Zhan thrusts into him again and again.  He's breathless from the waves of pleasure, Xiao Zhan’s greedy mouth ravishing his, and the fact that Xiao Zhan is even <em>here.</em>  He wants to murmur his name, as if saying it will make this moment real, but he can’t form the words.</p><p>A week ago, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever see Xiao Zhan again, had resigned himself to the idea that he’d have to move on -- and now Yibo has his legs wrapped tight around him, urging him to go deeper and harder and the only response is the sound of Xiao Zhan’s labored groans above him.  It’s a sight, his long hair falling around his face in a wild curtain, his mouth open in bliss.</p><p>Yibo rakes his fingers through the strands and pulls Xiao Zhan in for a clumsy kiss, their mouths sliding awkwardly together as their breaths grow heavier and more staccato.  “Yibo, Yibo--” Xiao Zhan chants, and just the sound of his name falling from his lips lights Yibo up inside.  </p><p>With a grunt, Xiao Zhan pushes to his knees, pulls Yibo’s hips into his lap, and wraps a hand around his cock.  Yibo throws his head back and a stream of Korean curses fall from his mouth, release frustratingly just out of reach, like an itch that can’t quite be scratched.  With each snap of Xiao Zhan’s hips, with each stroke, Yibo can feel himself being pushed closer and closer to the edge.</p><p>A light sheen of sweat glints on Xiao Zhan’s heaving chest, and the harsh huff of his breath echoes in Yibo’s ears.  He’s close too, Yibo can tell.  “You - you feel so good, Yibo, I can’t, I can’t…” Xiao Zhan starts, then comes with a sudden and incoherent cry, his hips stuttering against Yibo.  </p><p>The sight and sound of Xiao Zhan in ecstasy is too much for Yibo to take in, and he comes with a shout, arching his back with a loud and broken <em>hhnnngh</em> before melting boneless into the mattress.  Xiao Zhan gives him an answering grunt, then slumps forward over Yibo to press a sloppy, exhausted kiss to his face.</p><p>Yibo’s heavy pants give way to laughter.  “Oh god,” he snorts, gesturing at the sticky mess between them as Xiao Zhan awkwardly reaches for the condom and tosses it to the floor.  “That was - that was fucking awesome,” he murmurs against his face.  </p><p>Xiao Zhan wraps an arm around Yibo’s shoulders and Yibo rests a hand on his chest, listens to his breaths as they slow and quiet.  For the first time in months, he feels content.</p><p>“Aren’t you glad you took that ‘mystery idol’ meeting today, ge?”</p><p>A brilliant smile blooms across Xiao Zhan’s face.  “God, was that just today?”  He draws Yibo closer, fitting their bodies together as he drops lazy kisses on his lips.  “Definitely not what I expected from that meeting, but… yeah.”  His voice breaks a little with emotion.  “I’m - I’m glad you didn’t let us go.”</p><p>Yibo smirks.  “I don’t give up easily.  Not when I really want something.”  He shifts, eyes thoughtful.  “I did almost lose hope, though.  If Jackson hadn’t told me you were back…” he trails off before saying, with a coy lick of his lips, “But I'd like to think we would have found our way back to each other sometime, somehow.  You’re hard to forget.”</p><p>“I'm not sure I could have stayed away from you, to be honest.  I mean, I couldn’t forget you either,” Xiao Zhan says softly, his eyes flickering to where Yibo’s fingers are absently stroking the black panther tattoo on Xiao Zhan’s shoulder.</p><p>Yibo raises an eyebrow.  “Yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Xiao Zhan replies with a satisfied sigh.  “You got under my skin too.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireflavoredwhiskey/pseuds/fireflavoredwhiskey">Elle</a> for being my amazing beta and friend!  ❤️   Huge thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinkywrists/pseuds/kinkywrists">Lucy</a> for being my smut beta 🔥  and to the rest of w&amp;w for the sprints and moral support.  It takes a village!</p><p>And please leave comments and kudos because holy heck I've never written smut before and I'm stupidly anxious about posting this chapter. 😱</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It’s been almost a year that they’ve been together and Yibo still can’t believe this man is his to taste like this.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <b>ONE YEAR LATER</b>
  </em>
</p><p>Yibo hears the singing when he opens the door to his apartment and his heart leaps out of his chest.</p><p>
  <em>He’s home.</em>
</p><p>“Zhan-ge?”  Yibo barely gets his shoes off before he charges into the kitchen and nearly slips and falls at the sight that greets him: Xiao Zhan, belting out a song while shirtless in a pink apron, long hair loose to his shoulders, his muscled and tattooed arms on full display as he aggressively tosses something in a heavy steel wok.</p><p>Yibo’s mouth goes dry in an instant, everything vital in his body zipping southward in a way that he’s going to need to unpack later.</p><p>The familiar melody of Jay Chou’s “Confession Balloon” abruptly stops when Xiao Zhan turns and notices Yibo standing dumbstruck by the kitchen island.  His face lights up in a brilliant smile as he clicks off the stove, pops out his AirPods, and strides forward to plant a kiss on Yibo’s lips.</p><p>“You’re home early.  I was going to surprise you with dinner.”</p><p>Yibo hauls Xiao Zhan in for a deeper kiss, breathing in the homey smell of shampoo, cologne, and stir-fry.  “I didn’t think you were coming back from Beijing until tomorrow,” he smiles against Xiao Zhan’s soft lips.</p><p>“Mn, well, as Lulu is always reminding me, I’m the boss, so if I want to reschedule things so I can see my movie star boyfriend when he’s got a break from filming, I can do that.”</p><p>“God, I missed you,” Yibo rumbles into Xiao Zhan’s neck and tangles a hand into his hair.</p><p>Xiao Zhan leans into Yibo’s attention.  “Missed you too,” he sighs.  “Got called out by Lulu for thinking about you when we were supposed to be working.  Said I looked so lovesick she insisted I take the next flight back -- something about how she couldn’t stand being around me anymore.”</p><p>Yibo grins stupidly at the idea of Xiao Zhan mooning over him.  He knows he does it too.  </p><p>“Jackson said he won’t come over for dinner again if it’s just him -- he complained to Yixing that we served him dog food all night.  Said that if this is how we were going to thank him, he would just stay home next time.”  Yibo relates this with a smug look on his face, the way a child might take joy in showing off a prized toy that no one else has.</p><p>Xiao Zhan, however, looks mortified.  “Dog food?  I didn’t serve-- oh, <em>haha</em>, I get it.  Well, perhaps we should be kinder to our friends, or we won’t have any anymore.  Maybe if we saw each other more often…”</p><p>“You don’t have to miss me now,” Yibo leers, worming his hands under the pink apron to palm Xiao Zhan’s bare chest.</p><p>“<em>Ahaaah</em>…” Xiao Zhan giggles at his touch and shrinks back, his face adorably flushed.  “M-maybe -- <em>ahhh</em> -- we should have dinner first, hm?  While it’s still hot?”</p><p>They fall into the steps of a familiar and comfortable dance. Yibo is useless in the kitchen, so while Xiao Zhan finishes preparing dinner, Yibo sets the table, his heart beating a joyful rhythm as he puts out two of everything: two plates, two glasses, two sets of chopsticks set on two napkins.  There’s a symmetry to it that fills him with happiness.</p><p>Everything is so perfect that sometime during dinner, Yibo gazes across the table and wonders if he’s dreaming -- coming home to a delicious meal cooked by his beautiful, talented, and successful boyfriend seems too good to be true.</p><p>He reaches under the table and pinches a thigh.  And disturbingly, the scene starts to waver and dissolve.</p><p>
  <em>Yibo?  Yibo… Earth to Yibo…</em>
</p><p>Yibo blinks his eyes open to the feel of Xiao Zhan’s hands roaming gently over his bare shoulders and... <em>oh.</em></p><p>“You’re back,” Xiao Zhan says with a warm smile.</p><p>Yibo sighs contentedly and laughs at himself for how bad he has it for Xiao Zhan.  Most people daydream about sex, and here Yibo is, balls-deep in this gorgeous guy, in the midst of a post-orgasmic haze, and he’s daydreaming about coming home to Xiao Zhan -- and that’s not a euphemism for sex.  </p><p>Before he met Xiao Zhan, he would never have believed it if anyone had told him that he would literally get off on thoughts of domestic bliss, but really, who could blame him when this is the man he plays house with?  (Although, no surprise, he <em>also</em> daydreams about fucking and being fucked by Xiao Zhan…)</p><p>“Holy shit, that was amazing,” Yibo breathes, lifting his head to gaze down at Xiao Zhan.  “<em>You</em> are amazing,” he says, a bit starry-eyed, leaning in to savor the lazy slide of soft lips against his.  It’s been almost a year that they’ve been together and Yibo still can’t believe that Xiao Zhan is his to taste like this.</p><p>And more.</p><p>Yibo feels Xiao Zhan unwind those endless legs from around his waist and runs a hand along a firm, muscled thigh as he pulls himself up and out.  The high, thready groan that escapes from Xiao Zhan makes Yibo’s cock twitch with renewed interest, even as they break apart and Yibo lies, spent and sated, at Xiao Zhan’s side.</p><p>He turns his eyes towards Xiao Zhan and delights in the way he looks back at him, open and adoring.  There are no more secrets between them -- well, nothing like before, anyway.  Yibo <em>might</em> be planning a surprise for Xiao Zhan that he hasn’t told him about yet.</p><p>Their lives have intertwined more easily than either of them could have imagined.  Xiao Zhan splits his time between Shanghai and Taipei, mostly, managing a busy portfolio of corporate and celebrity clients across Asia.  It’s not always easy to mesh their schedules, but they’re managing.</p><p>It’s never as much time as Yibo wants, and Xiao Zhan is still getting used to his more high-profile, jet-setting life, but at least Xiao Zhan is more comfortable with celebrity now.  He has to be, not just for his responsibilities to <em>Red Wolf,</em> but also because Yibo insists on showing him off at as many events as his manager will allow him to.</p><p>Xiao Zhan props himself up on an elbow and runs a finger along Yibo’s dragon tattoo.  It’s still unfinished.</p><p>“You used to complain all the time about me leaving you with a half-done tattoo,” he smirks, “and now that you've gotten your tattoo artist to move in with you, you don't care anymore?”</p><p>“It used to remind me every day that you left me, but now--” Yibo gently pushes on Xiao Zhan’s chest and rolls back onto him, caging him between his arms and leering down at him, “it makes me think about how you complete me.”</p><p>He looks down to where their hips are pressed together, and smirks at the way their dragon and phoenix tattoos line up and undulate in a vaguely obscene dance as he rolls his hips in a filthy slide.</p><p>He flicks his eyes back up to gaze at Xiao Zhan, who licks his lips and stares back at him with a dark and hungry expression on his face.  Yibo knows what he’s thinking -- it’s not the first time they’ve noticed how their tattoos align <em>just right</em> when they’re making love.</p><p>Xiao Zhan is the superstitious one between them, and had whispered to Yibo once before about the odd coincidence that Yibo had asked for a dragon -- the legendary match to Xiao Zhan’s own tattoo (which also remains incomplete -- "maybe I'll keep remaking myself," he'd shrugged).</p><p>Yibo enjoys the symmetry of their tattoos.  It just feels <em>right.</em>  “Perhaps we really are fated,” Yibo had said to Xiao Zhan, liking the idea that they’re meant to be.</p><p>But the perfect way their tattoos fit when their bodies are pressed tightly to one another -- that wasn’t fate.  It was Xiao Zhan’s doing, a deliberate choice he’d made, even though he hadn't known then what their future would hold.  </p><p>A couple of months after they’d finally gotten together (the second time, for keeps), Xiao Zhan had lain in Yibo’s arms, emotional and overwhelmed as he thought about the time they'd lost.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I was a coward, not going after what I wanted.  I wish I'd--</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hey, hey, don’t talk about the man I love that way.  We’re here now, that’s all I care about.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I hurt you, though, and I’m so sor--</em>
</p><p>
  <em>No ‘sorry’s between us, Zhan-ge.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wahh, that’s not right.  If I hurt you--</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You said ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again the night you cut me off.  So… yeah, I never want to hear you say you’re sorry again.  Just... stay.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Okay.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Now, they make sure to grab every opportunity they get.  No more leaving things up to chance.</p><p>“Anyway,” Yibo says with a grunt, working them both up for another round, “I feel like when we get to see each other, I have a choice between you inking the rest of the tat and -- <em>ahhh</em> -- getting to do this.”</p><p>“It's true, you have to keep the tattoo site clean and avoid rubbing the skin as it heals, and--” he sucks in a sharp breath, “-- <em>aish you brat, I'm still really sensitive</em> -- so clearly we're not very good at that kind of… aftercare.”</p><p>“We worked around it last time,” Yibo grins, grinding into him.</p><p>“Ahhh -- tried to,” Xiao Zhan says, then grabs Yibo by the hips to still him.  “Seriously.  You are insatiable.”</p><p>“Can you blame me?” Yibo drops down to drag his tongue along the thick vein that runs the length of Xiao Zhan's neck.  “I have this gorgeous gege naked in bed?  How can I resist?”  </p><p>“<em>Aiyaa,</em>” Xiao Zhan sighs, rolling his head back and baring his long neck (and that vein) just to make sure that Yibo can't resist.  “You don’t know when to quit, do you, Lao Wang?”  </p><p>“If I did, we wouldn’t be here now, would we?”</p><p>Xiao Zhan opens his mouth to protest, but then laughs.  “I guess, but whose method of seduction is to keep getting tattoos?”</p><p>Yibo huffs a laugh against Xiao Zhan’s throat.  “If you’re hot for your tattoo artist, it’s a totally rational thing to do.”  He sucks up a bruise on Xiao Zhan’s collarbone and enjoys the light whimper this pulls out of him.  “You were just too oblivious to figure it out!”</p><p>“Obviously I’m not a narcissist like you,” Xiao Zhan giggles as Yibo growls in protest.  “Why should I have assumed you were marking yourself for me?”</p><p>“Ge, I literally asked you to put that black panther tattoo on my ass--”</p><p>Yibo feels a hand move to caress the tattoo in question as Xiao Zhan’s voice vibrates under his lips.  “You keep saying that like it should have been an obvious come on.  We'd only just met when you asked for that one!  And you think I should have suspected it had anything to do with me?  I didn’t even know that dot was supposed to be a mole--”</p><p>“Fuck,” Yibo groans, feeling the hard press of Xiao Zhan’s cock against his own as they rock against each other.  “You have no idea how much that sexy mole of yours drove me crazy.  I jacked off to it the first time you inked me.”</p><p>“So you've said,” Xiao Zhan laughs, his breath ghosting through Yibo’s hair. “You are such a romantic.  Please don't ever tell that story to another soul.”</p><p>“Oh please,” Yibo snorts, lifting his head to give his man an incredulous stare.  “You told Lulu.  You knew what I was doing.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan rolls his eyes, lips lifting in an amused smirk that Yibo loves so much.  “God.  I should never leave you two alone together.  Fine -- I knew you were a horny little monster, but that didn’t make me think those tats were for me.  What kind of lunatic gets a tattoo for someone he's met once before?”</p><p>“Like you haven't heard of that before, people getting tats for crushes -- you told me all those stories yourself.”</p><p>“Those were cautionary tales, Lao Wang.”</p><p>“Whatever,” Yibo says, moving in to lay open-mouthed kisses on the face he has come to love so much.  “I knew what I wanted.  Admit it.  You wanted me too.”</p><p>“I won't,” Xiao Zhan huffs, his eyes twinkling.  “Your head is big enough.”</p><p>“Yes it is,” Yibo smirks, grinding his hips meaningfully against Xiao Zhan.  “And you like it.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan draws out a long, dramatic sigh.  “God help me, I do.”</p><p>“Anyway, I don’t need you to admit it.  It’s all over your body how much you wanted me,” Yibo breathes, running large hands over the tattoos that now run down both arms.  </p><p>“Come on,” Yibo urges, biting a plush lip in the way he knows Xiao Zhan can’t resist.  “One more round, gege…”</p><p>“You said that the last time, you liar.”</p><p>“You can’t keep coming home with more tats and expect me not to get horny,” Yibo says, fingers tracing over a firm bicep adorned with an intricate web of interlocking stars and flowers.  “You showing up in photographs with your tattooed arms exposed is killing me, did you know?  I shouldn’t be letting you walk around like this.”</p><p>“It’s for business.  I have to sell the aesthetic,” he shrugs.</p><p>“Come on, old man,” Yibo teases with another roll of his hips.</p><p>“You--” Xiao Zhan grits out with mock annoyance, then flips Yibo off and muscles him onto his stomach.  It’s not difficult -- he’s bigger and taller, but Yibo also doesn’t fight it.  Xiao Zhan settles between his thighs and runs an appreciative hand down his bare back, all the way down to his ass.  “I’ve always liked this view,” he murmurs as he pinches a cheek, just below the black panther tattoo, then slides a hand still lower.</p><p>Yibo makes a muffled groan into the mattress.</p><p>“Keeps you quieter, too.”</p><p>Yibo turns his head to the side with a gasp.  “I thought you liked to hear me-- <em>oof!</em> -- hey, slow down, give a guy - <em>ay</em> -- some warning?”</p><p>“Weren’t you just calling me an old man?” Xiao Zhan says mildly, twisting his wrist and wringing another long groan out of Yibo.  “Just getting you ready to back up your big talk… I really do like this view...”</p><p>Yibo preens, enjoying the words of praise coming from Xiao Zhan, the dirty talk falling so incongruously from his pretty mouth.  A year ago, he could hardly have imagined that a man this sexy and talented could be his.  Xiao Zhan wasn’t wrong to recoil from the idol life -- it’s rare to find something real, to be able to have the kind of connection they have.</p><p>“I still can’t believe you thought the black panther tattoo was for Cheng Xiao, of all people,” Yibo taunts.  “A girl?  When is a girl going to be looking at my ass during sex?  You really are so-- <em>fuck!</em>”  Yibo’s body jerks and he lets out a long moan as Xiao Zhan thrusts into him.</p><p>Xiao Zhan settles over Yibo’s back and breathes into his ear: “I don’t think you’re really in any position to trash talk me right now, hm?”</p><p>Yibo grins weakly, his fingers digging into the sheets.  “Maybe I - I like it when you’re rough with me.”</p><p>“I’m in no rush, Lao Wang,” Xiao Zhan hums into the back of his neck while gently rocking into him.  There’s time tonight, and nowhere else to be.</p><p>“Ge, don’t be a tease,” Yibo whines.  </p><p>“How is it teasing if I’m actually fucking you?  But if what you really want is for me to make you feel it--” and Yibo tenses, letting out a rough sigh as he feels Xiao Zhan bite down on his shoulder and suck hard, his mouth making an obscene <em>slurp</em> on his skin.</p><p>Yibo is as helpless under this man’s hands as he’s ever been.  From the first moment he’d seen him that fateful day at <em>Red Wolf,</em> he knew that he’d do just about anything for his touch.  The marks on his body tell the story of his insatiable hunger for Xiao Zhan, and the ways that Xiao Zhan loves him back.</p><p>Afterwards, they lie entangled on top of rumpled sheets, enjoying that woozy, fucked-out high, uncaring of the sweat and slick between them.</p><p>“I’m <em>uhhh</em> kind of glad you aren’t an idol,” Yibo purrs.</p><p>“Why do you say that?”</p><p>“I don’t think I could stand to share this with anyone else,” he smirks, sliding a thigh between Xiao Zhan’s legs and plastering himself even closer to his body.</p><p>“What are you on about?” Xiao Zhan says, eyes dancing playfully.  “Who says I’m sharing this with anyone but you?”</p><p>“Not this,” Yibo pouts.  “Other stuff.  That thing you do with your eyes.  Your smile.  Making everyone who looks at you believe they could have this.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan gapes at him.  “I - I what?  Don’t be ridiculous.”</p><p>“It’s true,” Yibo insists stubbornly.  “Don’t pretend you don’t see it--”</p><p>“I don’t,” Xiao Zhan says, his voice all syrupy.  “I only have eyes for you, Lao Wang.”</p><p>Yibo’s lips creep up into a satisfied smirk for just a moment before he pulls another theatrical pout.  He can do it because Xiao Zhan indulges him.  It’s one of the many things he loves about this man.  </p><p>“After that cover story and photo shoot for <em>Esquire,</em> you’ve got a following to rival actual idols.  I’ve seen the MARRY ME signs…”</p><p>“God, no one would believe that ‘cool guy’ Wang Yibo could be so clingy,” Xiao Zhan laughs as Yibo shoves him away in annoyance.  “Well, you don’t have anything to worry about.  There’s no one else.  See?”  He points at a small tattoo, etched into the sensitive skin on his groin, opposite the phoenix.  </p><p>Yibo feels a fond warmth fill his chest at the sight of it.  He remembers when Xiao Zhan unveiled it (he’d never enjoyed unwrapping a birthday present more).  Of course, Xiao Zhan had designed it himself -- a beautiful calligraphic scrawl of Yibo’s characters.</p><p>“I know you like to put your name on the things that belong to you,” Xiao Zhan grins.</p><p>“Yeah, but no one is going to see that,” Yibo huffs in mock outrage.  “And if they do, they’ve already seen too much.’</p><p>“Well,” Xiao Zhan smiles, “luckily, you trust me.  As I do you.”  He pokes Yibo in the belly, eliciting an inelegant snort.  “But just in case, I’ve also marked what’s mine,” he smirks, running a thumb across the <em>Zhan</em> character that stands out, vivid, on the pale and soft skin of Yibo’s groin.</p><p>“I would have let you put it on my cock: <em>Property of Xiao Zhan,</em>” Yibo says with a cheeky roll of his tongue.</p><p>“What good would that do, Lao Wang?  By the time you were hard enough for anyone to be able to read that, it really would be too late to matter, <em>hmm</em>?”  </p><p>Yibo lets out a hiss of laughter.  “You don’t have anything to worry about, you know.  It’s really more for myself.”</p><p>“Ah yes, we’ve established that you kind of get off on getting marked.”  To make his point, Xiao Zhan drags a finger down Yibo’s neck, following a trail of little red marks leading down, down, down.</p><p>Yibo shivers lightly at the sensation.  “Just by you, ge.  No one else.”  He takes Xiao Zhan’s hand and places it atop the black panther.  “And don’t forget all the tattoos,” he teases, enjoying the feel of warm hands sweeping up from his hips to slide around his waist, drawing him closer.  “That’s how we got here, remember.”  </p><p>“Mn,” Xiao Zhan says with a fond smile.  “I should be thankful you're so shameless.”</p><p>This earns him a smack on the arm.  “Again, just for you, ge!  And to think,” Yibo starts indignantly, with a roll of his eyes, “that you once told me to go find someone else to finish my tat--”</p><p>But Xiao Zhan doesn’t let him finish this sentence, muffling his familiar complaint with a firm mouth on his, and an insistent, exploratory tongue that always manages to make Yibo forget himself.</p><p>“Ah, Lao Wang,” he coaxes between kisses, “you know very well how happy I was to find out you never went to another artist.  So what can I do to make up for my foolishness?”</p><p>“Hm.”  Yibo chews on his bottom lip with that half-cocked smirk that he knows Xiao Zhan finds irresistibly hot.  “I’ve been thinking of getting another tattoo.”</p><p>Xiao Zhan lifts an eyebrow.  “Oh?”  A knowing smile plays across his beautiful face as he pulls Yibo close.  “So… where do you want it?”</p><p>Yibo closes his eyes and feels the thumping rhythm of their mingled heartbeats, the rise and fall of their breaths.  This is the feeling he wishes he could carry with him always.</p><p>He pats his chest.</p><p>“Right here.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>References:</p><p>"Serving dog food" is Chinese internet slang for public displays of affection.  Single people say that demonstrative couples force them to eat dog food.  <a href="https://www.chinesepod.com/dictionary/%E7%8B%97%E7%B2%AE">https://www.chinesepod.com/dictionary/%E7%8B%97%E7%B2%AE</a></p><p>Please enjoy these ridiculously hot edits of Xiao Zhan with sleeves of tattoos: <a href="https://twitter.com/kramfinite/status/1385231921983205378?s=20">https://twitter.com/kramfinite/status/1385231921983205378?s=20</a></p><p>And this!  The amazing <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Max_Maks_Art/pseuds/Max_Maks_Art">Max_Maks_Art</a> created this lovely edit of "Under My Skin," which is just overwhelming and humbling.  Don't miss it!  XZ with a black panther tattoo! <a href="https://twitter.com/max_maks_/status/1389281181812891651?s=20">https://twitter.com/max_maks_/status/1389281181812891651?s=20</a> </p><p>-------------</p><p>And that's it!  THANK YOU for reading!!  I hope you've enjoyed this AU as much as I did... if you did, you <em>might</em> want to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverthinkingThis">subscribe</a> because there <em>might</em> be a further work in the same universe!  In any case, comments and kudos are VERY APPRECIATED because I love to hear from readers.</p><p>Much love and thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireflavoredwhiskey/pseuds/fireflavoredwhiskey">Elle</a>, for everything!  This work wouldn't have been written without you!!  ❤️❤️❤️   THANK YOU <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinkywrists/pseuds/kinkywrists">Lucy</a> for being my smut beta 🔥  and to the rest of w&amp;w for the sprints and talking me off the ledge for the last month and a half.  Love you all!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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